


How Much Clearer Can I Be

by toomanysharks



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 5 + 1, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - Office, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nancy and Robin Scheme Team, No beta we die like mne, POV Alternating, Painfully Oblivious Boys, Punk Ass Bitch Mike Wheeler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanysharks/pseuds/toomanysharks
Summary: “I don’t know how I can be any clearer,” Billy groans. “I think what I need is for you to help me brainstorm some ideas here. Because right now all I’ve got is 'beat him up', which doesn’t seem like a great choice.”“Well, you know what they say, the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his ribcage.” Robin rolls her eyes. “Have you considered this revolutionary tactic called Using Your Words?”“What, you want me to straight up tell him I’m into him?” Billy scoffs, pushes away from the table and spins his chair in a circle. “We’re talking realistic options here, Buckley.”- - -OR Five Times Billy Tries to Woo Steve Using Different Love Languages and One Time He Finally Uses His Words.Featuring everyone aged up so they can all be working in an office together, for no good reason other than 'I wanted to.'
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 15
Kudos: 179





	1. He Doesn't Get it

**Author's Note:**

> Despite having worked in an office for years now I feel like I still don't understand what any company does or how it works so be warned the work aspects here are purposefully pretty vague. 
> 
> If you want more Harringrove chaos, but like, the fun kind, I also write stories over yonder at [**Am I Dreaming or is that a Prompt-Based Harringrove Series?**](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771882). It's basically just a place where sprinkle_of_cinnamon and I drown Steve and Billy in sass and sexual tension in unrelated but fun stories.

“Fuck yes!”

The words are out of Steve’s mouth as soon as he’s sure the phone is securely back on the hook and the call has definitely ended. He pumps his fists in the air, lunging out of his desk chair, sending it crashing into the wall of his office. 

Steve rips his door open and walks - definitely walks, he’s not running - down the hall to give Hop the update. When he gets to Hop’s office, door slightly open, he can see through the window that Max and Mike are inside. 

Hop runs a hand down his face. “I don’t care which one of you does it, but someone has got to talk to him, at least to get Karen off my back about this.” 

Mike and Max glare at each other. “I think Mike should do it. Seems like a conflict of interest if I do,” Max sniffs. 

“Great,” Hop says, claps his hands in front of him. “Get to it, then.” 

Mike is radiating pissy energy as he pushes through the door. 

“Steve,” he grumbles. 

“Who pissed in his cheerios?” Steve asks Max as Mike stalks away. 

Max laughs at that. “He has to deal with another disciplinary action.” 

Ah, that explained it. Mike was constantly bitching about having to deal with people breaking company policy. “Maybe he shouldn’t be in HR if he hates dealing with it so much?”

“I _wish_ he would switch departments,” Max groans. 

“I can still hear you!” Hop calls from inside his office. “Take it somewhere else.” 

Max smiles at Steve before walking off towards the HR cubicle section.

Steve steps into Hopper’s office, pulling the door shut behind him. “I have got some very good news,” he announces. 

“You got IT to fix the inbox issue,” Hopper guesses. 

“Better,” Steve promises. 

“The coffee machine in the small break room on the 12th floor is stocked with dark roast again?” Hopper grabs his mug, drains whatever coffee is in there. 

“No, I’m not a miracle worker.” Steve grins, grabs the back of the chair in front of Hopper’s desk rather than sitting in it. “But, I did just get off the phone with the account in San Diego, and they want our software.”

Hop’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “You shittng me?”

“They’re sending me the contract by 2 pm. You’ll have it in your inbox by 3,” Steve promises. 

“Only if IT fixes the inbox issue,” Hopper hedges, then sits back in his chair, breathes out a heavy sigh. “Holy hell, kid. Congrats.” He sits forward, scribbles some names on a notepad along with some notes. “I’ll start putting a team together to head out there and do training and implementation.” 

“I’ll see what I can do about IT and the inbox issue,” Steve says. 

Hop looks up, considers him for a moment. “Proud of you, Harrington. You’ve come a long way since your intern days.”

Steve’s smile goes from manic and unbridled to soft and private at the praise. “Thanks, Hop.”

Hopper shoos at him. “Now get out of my office, I have work to do.”

Steve walks back to his office and closes the door behind him before dialing Dustin. 

He answers nearly immediately. “Steve, we’ve been over this, if you’re having network connectivity issues, you need to call Will or Lucas. I do code, not tech support.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Steve paces back and forth, phone cord keeping him on a short leash. “Not calling about the network. Calling because I fucking did it - I landed the San Diego account.” 

“What?!” Dustin shrieks and Steve has to pull the phone away from his ear. “That’s amazing dude, good for you! That’s a huge account!” 

“And it means I’m probably gonna get to go to California,” Steve adds. 

"You Sales Department hacks always get to do the cool stuff while we work our fingers to the bone over here in IT," Dustin complains. 

Steve laughs at that, because he knows for a fact that Dustin got to go to a developers conference in New York last year that was apparently a big deal. IT got to have fun sometimes, too.

"Well, I'll send you a postcard. And I could even buy you a magnet," Steve offers. 

"You know I cherish my gifted magnet collection." And Steve did know that. Because Dustin was always bragging about his filing cabinet being more well traveled than he was, like that was something you should be proud of. 

"Yeah, well, none of that can happen if I can’t get their contract." Steve sits down at his desk, twirling the phone cord around his finger. "I know I’m on speakerphone - Lucas - I’m gonna need you to get your shit together and solve that inbox issue.” 

“Hey,” Lucas snips, voice muffled from being on the other side of the cubicle wall from Dustin. “We only put you on speakerphone because the whole department likes to hear you complain. It gives us something to laugh about.” 

“I’ve almost got it fixed," Will assures, sounding slightly less far away than Lucas, and Steve can picture him leaning over the cube wall, like usual. “Should be up before lunch time.” 

Thank all the gods. “Great. Speaking of lunch, we still down to meet in the cafeteria downstairs?”

“Oh for sure,” Dustin says. “It’s Wednesday so you know Nancy and Robin will be there, too.” 

Steve tries to suppress a groan. Robin being at lunch means there’s an 80% chance that Billy will be there, too. Not that Steve would be _mad_ about Billy being around, but it would mean another hour of his life where he had to focus on keeping his reactions in check so he didn’t give himself away. 

“Can’t wait,” Steve says, then hangs up the phone. 

* * *

Billy looks up from his laptop to find Mike fucking Wheeler standing in his cubicle. “Can I help you?”

Mike shifts uncomfortably. “I have to talk to you about something that I think we should discuss in a meeting room. Do you have a moment?”

Billy rolls his eyes. “So a disciplinary action then?” Mike nods. “Fuck it, just lay it on me.” 

The cubes around them are empty - the Outreach and Education team was out of the office a lot. He was pretty sure the only other person currently in the office in his department was Robin, and she was out getting them coffee. 

“Can you please abstain from cursing at work?” Mike asks. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Billy says. “Or, wait, is this the disciplinary action part? Was somebody complaining about my swearing?”

“No.” Mike sighs deeply, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Someone _did_ complain about you not adhering to the company dress code though.” 

Billy glances down at his outfit. “And what, exactly, is wrong with my goddamn clothes?”

“Collared shirts are to be buttoned completely, or at maximum may have one button undone,” Mike says, dropping a piece of paper onto Billy’s desk. Billy already knows without looking that it’s a photocopy of the dress code section from the employee handbook. 

Mike used to bring a whole fresh copy of the entire handbook with him every time that Billy got an infraction, but after Billy filled a filing cabinet drawer with his unused copies, Mike must have figured it was more environmentally friendly to just emphasize the particular rules being broken. 

“Um, no thanks,” Billy says, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a white tank under his button up, and the shirt is only undone a _few_ buttons anyway. 

Mike rolls his eyes. “I honestly don’t care what you do with your clothes.” He straighteners the sleeves of his own shirt, not looking at Billy. “Hop doesn’t care either - you’re too good of an employee to write you up over your distinct fashion sense. But when we get a complaint, you know we have to do this.” 

“Who in their right mind is complaining about Billy’s collarbones being exposed?” Robin swoops in, death grip on the handles of the two coffee mugs in her hand. She grabs her laptop and nods at Billy. “Anyway, we’ve got that meeting. In conference room 3.” 

“Oh, for sure. The meeting. In conference room 3,” Billy says, gathering his laptop and his papers. “Thanks for stopping by, Wheeler. It’s been a fucking delight, as always.” 

“We’re not really done here,” Mike protests. 

Billy shuffles past him, slipping out of his cube. “Ah, sorry. Meeting.” He shrugs and then turns his back on Mike Wheeler, not giving a fuck what the guy does. 

He hears a frustrated noise, and then the sound of receding footsteps, so he figures Mike must have given up on trying to actually reprimand Billy. Smart kid. 

Robin leads him to the conference room and closes the door behind them. “Mike fucking Wheeler,” she sighs as she sets her stuff down, passing him a mug. 

“Some part of me feels bad for being a dick to him,” Billy muses. “But honestly, he’s a punk ass bitch.”

“You’re not wrong.” Robin throws her feet up on an empty chair. “And, like, it would almost be two-faced of you to be a dick to him in our personal lives and friendly at work, so you’ve gotta maintain the status quo.“

Billy is grateful that Robin doesn’t even suggest being nicer to him all around. She just gets it. 

“So, what’s our first order of business for the meeting today?” Billy asks, leaning back in his chair. He and Robin work really well together, and they have all kinds of legitimate meetings, but any time they meet in conference room 3, it’s not about work. 

“Our first order of business was getting Mike to go away. Now that that’s done, I’ve got no other pressing issues.” Robin sips her coffee. “You?” 

“Yeah, actually.” Billy leans forward, elbows on the table. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

Robin hums. “Loving where this is going. Carry on.”

“Thanks, Rob.” Billy rolls his eyes. “I'm starting to think Steve Harrington is either immune to my lines or he’s just, like, not interested.” 

“Well I can tell you from my time working with him at Scoops in college that Steve is definitely into the chiseled jaw, rippling abs, wry sense of humor thing,” Robin says. “And he never used to be able to handle good come ons before he met you, so the immunity thing seems unlikely.”

Billy sighs. “When we had that Mario Kart party last week, he beat me in literally every race for the cup and then proceeded to tell me I sucked.” He slumps forward, props his chin up on his fist. “When I told him I would really like to suck _something_ , he just asked if I was ready to lose again. I don’t even think he blushed.” 

“Maybe he didn’t get the innuendo because he was distracted by the game. He wasn’t paying attention,” Robin offers. 

“I literally stared at his dick and licked my lips. He _watched me_ lick my lips. He was paying attention.” Billy wouldn’t say he was moping about Steve Harrington, but he was maybe grumbling. There was a distinction. 

Robin winces. “Okay, yeah, that’s pretty bad.” 

“I don’t know how I can be any clearer,” Billy groans. “I think what I need is for you to help me brainstorm some ideas here. Because right now all I’ve got is _beat him up_ , which doesn’t seem like a great choice.” 

“Well, you know what they say, the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his ribcage.” Robin rolls her eyes. “Have you considered this revolutionary tactic called Using Your Words?”

“What, you want me to straight up tell him I’m into him?” Billy scoffs, pushes away from the table and spins his chair in a circle. “We’re talking _realistic_ options here, Buckley.”

“Alright.” Robin puts her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “You’re right, that’s my bad, I should have known normal, mature, discussion was out of the question. Have you tried Googling it?”

Billy huffs a laugh, and Robin must already know what he’s gonna say because she’s opening her laptop and typing away. “This has never really been something I had to work at before, so no, I didn’t even consider Googling it.” 

“Okay, here’s a [ WikiHow article ](https://www.wikihow.com/Let-Someone-Know-You-Like-Them) about how to let someone know you like them.” Robin scooches her chair around the table and shifts her laptop so they can look at it together. 

It’s pretty straightforward stuff, but then they get to section two, which is about body language, and Billy starts laughing. “Dude, I don’t think I can take this seriously when one of the suggestions is to _touch yourself_.” 

“That’s fair,” Robin concedes, pushing her laptop away. “Okay, maybe google isn’t our friend this time.”

She taps her pen on the desk, rapid fire, like she does when they’re trying to workshop a new training tactic. Billy just watches her, can see the wheels turning in her mind. He’s not sure how long he stares and he’s startled when her pen suddenly comes to a stop. 

“I have an idea,’ she says, drawing it out a bit. “But I’m not sure you’re gonna like it.” 

“I didn’t like your idea when you said I should shave the sides of my hair down shorter and that ended up being a genius idea,” Billy points out. “Let’s hear it.” 

Robin nods. “Okay, so the over the top, in your face come ons aren’t working, right? Maybe you should try a softer, more subtle approach.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Billy starts. Robin points at him and he points back at her, the ‘ _nothing about me is straight’_ joke passing between them unspoken at this point. “Your suggestion is for me to be a completely different person? Great.” 

Robin sighs, clearly annoyed with his willful misunderstanding. “No, keep being you, but with less of the lines and more dong, like, _nice things_.” 

“What exactly do you have in mind? I’m not about to like, recite fucking poetry for the guy.” Billy doesn’t admit that he _has_ read poetry and thought of Steve, though. 

“You know how there’s 5 love languages or whatever?” Robin looks at him, crosses her arms. 

Billy most definitely did not know that. “Sorry, 5 what now?”

“Love languages,” Robin repeats. “As in how you like to express and receive love?”

“Hang on, nobody said anything about love,” Billy interjects. “I’m not in love with Harrington.”

“Wasn’t saying you were,” Robin says, and she’s looking at him like maybe she’s not sure she believes him. “But I feel like we should explore the possibility that you’re just coming at him from the wrong angle so ya gotta switch it up and speak his language. Ya feel?”

“I feel like I’m regretting asking you for advice,” Billy mutters. 

Robin ignores him and pulls her laptop towards her again, quickly pulling up an article on love languages. “I’ll send this to you. Read up and then try each one. If you get through all five and it’s still not working, we can brainstorm again.” 

“Feel like if I get through all five and it’s still not working, it might just be time to admit defeat,” Billy says. 

“Oh look,” Robin chirps, scrolling through her emails. “Looks like Steve landed the San Diego account. Which means you’ve got the perfect opportunity to put the plan in motion.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, the five love languages are the chapter headings but they are:   
> Words of Affirmation  
> Acts of Service  
> Touch  
> Gifts  
> Quality Time
> 
> Naturally, my brain was like oh, look, a 5+1 just waiting to happen because I'm nothing if not a slut for the 5+1 format.


	2. Words of Affirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “People with words of affirmation as a love language value verbal acknowledgments of affection, including frequent compliments, words of appreciation, verbal encouragement, and digital communication like texting and social media engagement.”

Steve is going through his inbox, which is fully functional thanks to Will Byers and Will Byers _only_ , deleting all the stupid company-wide listserv messages with reckless abandon. Half of them don’t even apply to his department, so why read them? 

He gets to a slew of messages from people around the office congratulating him on landing the account in San Diego, and he files those away in a folder he has titled “For When You’re Having a Bad Day”, where he keeps all the emails he gets that are nice. You know, for when he’s having a bad day and needs to be reminded that not everything is awful. 

He’s got one presumably San Diego related email left, and he’s not really sure if he should file it or delete it. He stares at the email, reads it again. Thinks he might be misreading it. Not that there’s that much to misread, it’s a very short email.

> To: Harrington, Steve <sharrington@sst.com>  
>  From: Hargrove, Billy <bhargrove@sst.com>  
>  Thursday, June 11, 2020 at 9:00 am  
>  Subject: you did it 
> 
> Way to go, Harrington 
> 
> _Billy Hargrove  
>  Outreach & Education _ _  
> _ _Stranger Things Systems_

He’s heard Billy say the phrase “way to go” with such disdain that he can actually hear Billy’s voice dripping with judgement as he reads the email again. Steve thinks it’s probably supposed to be congratulatory, but considering the rest of the emails had some exclamation points or at least a general tone of excitement, this almost feels mocking.

It would maybe be less confusing if Billy Hargrove was in the habit of saying nice things to him. They’d been friends for a few years now, after Robin had realized they both had a thing for basketball and introduced them. She’d said it was so that she could stop pretending to care about March Madness, but she still filled out a bracket in their pool every year, so Steve figured she probably had ulterior motives. 

Which seemed great at first, but honestly, Billy just made fun of Steve all the time. Like, he was clearly painfully aware of Steve’s crush and mocked him for it using the _worst_ lines possible. Like, if he wasn’t interested, he could just say that instead of being a dick all the time. 

After a while Steve had realized that Billy joked around and lowkey made fun of all of his friends - that's how he showed affection. In fact, if he wasn't making fun of you, he probably didn't like you. The realization had taken some of the sting out of Billy's mocking come-ons, and Steve didn't take it personally anymore, but it's not like it felt great. Luckily, they still got along _really_ well so Steve could ignore the mockery. 

So yeah, Billy Hargrove does not say nice things to Steve in their personal or professional lives, and this email is...weird. 

A skype message pops up, distracting Steve from his contemplation. 

> **Hopper, James** : Come on down to my office when you get a minute

Steve reminisces for a second about when he first started at Stranger Things Software and how a message like this from Hop would have sent him into a full blown panic. A lot has changed over the years.

He files Billy’s email away in his Bad Day folder, figures he can always go back and delete it later, then heads down the hall to Hop’s office. 

“You wanted to see me?” Steve knocks on the door as he says it, lingering in the doorway. 

Hopper inclines his head at him. “Come on in, close the door.” Steve does as he’s told, sits down in front of Hopper’s desk. “I’ve been putting together a team for the San Diego account.” 

“Great,” Steve says, trying to play it cool but feeling inordinately nervous. It had been a couple days since they’d officially sealed the deal, but talking about the San Diego account still made him jittery. 

“I’m assigning the technical implementation to Henderson, so he’ll be connecting with their IT team and will work over the next week to make sure that their operating systems are prepared for the software,” Hop explains. 

Steve thinks he should probably know exactly what that means by now, but his job isn’t to understand the technology, so he just nods. 

Hopper takes a sip of coffee before continuing. “For the team on the ground, I’m sending Hargrove and Buckley from Outreach and Education. I want to make sure we make a good impression.” 

“Robin certainly has a way with clients,” Steve says. “People really like her.” 

“And Hargrove is the most competent bastard there is, even if I’d never say that to his face.” Hopper huffs a laugh. “They’re the best team we’ve got. Then, for PR purposes, I’m sending Nancy. I want her to get some good photos of us working with them for our website. Maybe have her write up a piece about how STS is supporting their work.” 

At first, Steve isn’t going to mention that Nancy will rip Billy’s throat out if she has to be stuck on the plane next to him because he ‘has no respect for personal space’, but then he thinks he should at least give Hop a heads up about what he’s getting himself into. 

“You should probably brace yourself for at least one major melt down between Billy and Nancy. They’re actually really great friends, but sometimes they just grate on each other too much,” Steve warns. 

“Not my problem.” Hop grins at him. “I’m not gonna be there.” 

Steve frowns, not following what Hop’s saying. As the head of the unit, Hop goes on every implementation trip. 

“What, are you flying out separate?” Steve asks. “Or, wait, is Newby going?”

Hop shakes his head. “No. _You're_ going. I’m trusting you to manage the team. You made the connect and you closed the deal, so I’m pretty confident you can handle this.” 

“But,” Steve starts, trails off. Usually the person from Sales who got the contract would go along on Implementation, but only to connect Hop or Bob to the company, and then Sales’ job is to just shut up and look pretty. 

Hopper shakes his head. “Look, kid. Bob is gonna be retiring soon and I need someone who can fill that spot. I’m thinking it could be you, but I gotta give you a chance to prove yourself first.” 

“And me running point on Implementation for one of the biggest accounts for STS is the way you want me to prove myself?” Steve asks, a little dumbfounded. 

Hopper shrugs. “You’re already done the hard work. Now you basically just gotta show up and let O&E do their training. You can do this.” 

Steve knows it's not as simple as just showing up, and he's not 100% sure he _can_ do this, but Hop believes in him, and he figures the only way to find out is to do the damn thing. “You want any souvenirs from California?” 

When Steve gets back to his desk, he's got a bunch of skype messages from Robin. 

> **Buckley, Robin:** heard about San Diego   
>  **Buckley, Robin:** congrats my dude   
>  **Buckley, Robin:** I can't go as hard as we used to in our Scoops Ahoy days but I feel like this calls for celebration   
>  **Buckley, Robin** : Saturday, my place   
>  **Buckley, Robin** : I'll invite the whole disaster gang. You just show up and bring your alcohol of choice

Steve laughs at that. They had little to no regard for the future functioning of their livers when they were in college. Having relatively light course loads and a job that just required you to sling ice cream had enabled them and they had taken full advantage. 

Not even Nancy's disappointed looks over FaceTime the day after were enough to slow him down. She was all the way in New York studying journalism. What did she know about getting shit faced in some IU dorm with the girl you met at work? Nothing, that's what. 

At any rate, he had to agree that he'd lost his ability to have fun while getting black out drunk, but getting a little sloppy sounded like fun. 

> **Harrington, Steve:** I'm bringing Fireball and I'm leaving my sense of shame at home.

* * *

Billy sits on Robin’s couch, head tipped back against the cushions, watching with amusement as Max fucking destroys Lucas, Will, and Dustin on Super Smash Bros. He’s got music playing on his phone, one earbud in so he can jam but also listen to the kids trash talk each other. 

They're pretty messy, everyone leaning into each other, characters falling off the edges of the arena as they laugh at each other. Billy's not sure they've mastered the delicate balance of drinking enough to have a good time but not so much that they’ll have to deal with pre-Monday anxiety _and_ a hangover tomorrow. 

He considers saying something, but really, it's too late now and it's entertaining to watch. 

The couch dips as Steve flops down next to him. “Nancy and Robin are fighting with Jonathan and Tommy about if there’s a difference between Miracle Whip and mayonnaise.” 

“Jesus. I can see why watching the kids play video games was a better option,” Billy says. 

“I mean, obviously there’s a difference but I don’t need to stand around and debate it.” Steve takes a drink and laughs, nods at where Jane Is trying to teach Carol and Barb how to do a Tik Tok dance. “And I sure as hell wasn’t going to subject myself to that.” 

Billy tsks. “Worried you’d immediately blow up and the Tik Tok fame would go to your head?”

“Oh, for sure.” Steve down-right giggles, a side effect of the Fireball. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember the little people when I become internet famous.” 

Steve looks mock-serious as he pats Billy’s knee in what is maybe supposed to be a consoling gesture. Billy just thinks about his warm hands and long fingers being somewhere further north. 

“Hey, wanna play a game?” Billy asks, desperate to distract himself from Steve being so fucking close, but not wanting to drive him away. 

Steve’s eyebrows rise with a look of interest. “Is this the part where you put on a clown mask and tie me up and make me escape while you watch?”

 _Only if that’s what you’re into, baby_ . Billy shuts _that_ thought down, reminding himself that he’s trying a different strategy these days. 

“I had actual nightmares about Jigsaw and that fucking tricycle after watching all the Saw movies back to back,” Billy confides. 

Steve whistles. “Wow, that’s dedication. I think I saw, like, half of the fourth one once.” 

“You’re really not missing much,” Billy says with a shrug. 

Steve nods. “Think I’ll take your word for it. I trust you. So what’s the game, if not making me saw my own leg off?” 

Billy pulls out his other earbud and passes it to Steve. “A game I like to play called _Is this Panic! At the Disco or Fall Out Boy_.” 

Steve laughs at that, claps his hands in front of him in glee. “Oh man, I’m gonna absolutely crush this.”

“Pretty confident there,” Billy says, already mourning the loss of Steve's hand on his knee and pulling up his _Fall Out at the Disco_ playlist. He has actually played this game with Max before, and she was horrible at it, mostly because she was more into 80s stuff than "emo" bands from the early 2000s.

Billy starts off easy, picking _I Write Sins, Not Tragedies_ , which everyone and their mother has heard at least 100 times. 

“Panic,” Steve says after exactly 2 seconds. “Come on man, _Sins_ is iconic, who doesn’t know that one?’’

“Thought I’d start off easy for you.” Billy picks _This is Gospel_ next.

Steve hums along for a second before saying, “Panic again. This is a good one in general, but sometimes when that ‘if you love me, let me go’ line hits, I think of that one vine with the kid who gets knocked over?” 

“Yes!” Billy says, feeling validated that someone else finally gets it. “Thank you! Max always gives me a look when I laugh at that line." 

Based on the speed at which Steve has identified these two songs, it seems like he at least knows the hits, so Billy picks a little deeper cut and plays Fall Out Boy’s _Saturday_ next to try to trip him up. 

“Ooooh, throwback Fall Out Boy.” Steve starts drumming in the air. “Panic never had this raw, more punk sounding energy to their music, so that’s easy.” 

“Can’t disagree there,” Billy says, nodding. He’s starting to question the wisdom of challenging Steve to this whole thing. He figures one more can’t hurt though. He picks another Fall Out Boy song, _America’s Suitehearts._

“Hmmm.” Steve’s nose wrinkles after about 15 seconds. “I know this is Fall Out Boy because that’s definitely Patrick’s voice, but I’m guessing it’s from that album that I pretend never happened.” 

Billy snorts at that. “Not a big fan of _Folie a Deux_?” 

“Nah.” Steve grabs Billy’s phone, scrolling through the playlist and picking something different before handing it back to Billy. “I’ve tried listening to it a few times, but why bother when their other albums are right there and they’re so much better?” 

“Hard to argue with that logic.”

“Hit me with some more. But nothing from _Folie a Deux_ or _Pretty. Odd_.” Steve points at him, and Billy nods in understanding.

Billy plays more songs, and Steve gets every single one of them, usually in a matter of just seconds. They spend some time talking about their favorites, memories they’ve associated with them, and lyrics that just hit them harder than others. But they always come back to Steve having to guess which band it is, despite having gotten them all right - like, clearly he knows his shit and the game is pointless by now. 

They’re at least 20 songs in and Billy grins because Steve is amazing at this stupid game, and just, like, fucking breathtaking in general, and he thinks of _words_ _of_ _affirmation_. Thinks of that email he sent the other day that’s probably lost in the abyss of Steve's digital trash can. Considers saying _thanks for being so good at your job that we had to have a party, congrats man_ , but decides against it since he already basically said congrats once before. He figures he could take another crack at the concept in general though. 

"You're, like, really good at this game," Billy points out. Steve's face screws up in confusion, brows knitting together, and the guy doesn't say anything for a long enough beat that Billy feels the need to fill the silence. "I mean did you, like, have a giant fucking crush on Pete Wentz as a kid or something?" 

Steve scoffs. “‘Course. I did my time and I had my dark emo days and Pete Wentz was 100% my guy. What about you?” 

Billy tamps down on the reflex to offer to be Steve's guy, even if it’s just for one fucking night. "More of a Brendon fan, myself. Got a thing for guys with good hair." 

“Pete Wentz used to have good hair,” Steve sniffs, like he’s offended on Pete’s behalf. “It was iconic in it’s black, stick straight, greased down glory.” 

Billy figures his kind-of-line must have gone under the radar. Either that or Steve was doing his willfully oblivious act again. 

In any case, he determines that saying nice shit isn’t getting him very far. The email had gone un-answered and his genuine compliment just sent Steve into a state of confusion. Billy mentally crosses _words of affirmation_ off his list. 

Steve’s talking about the time he and Tommy and Carol conned Tommy’s parents into driving them all the way out to Noblesville, Indiana for the 2005 Warped Tour, his hands waving wildly as he recounts seeing Fall Out Boy live for the first time. He’s laughing at the memory of Tommy almost starting a fist fight in the middle of a mosh pit, and Billy laughs along with him, not surprised at all at the story - Tommy _would_ do that, even now.

He’s too distracted by Steve’s bright smile and his Bambi eyes just fucking glowing with joy to think about the next step in his plan, so he calls it a night on trying to seduce Steve using love languages or whatever. 

Instead, he just listens as Steve gripes about growing up in the middle of nowhere and how he never got to see any cool bands unless they drove forever to get there. 

“Can’t relate,” Billy mutters, trying not to sound too shitty about it. “Growing up in Cali meant there was a concert every time I turned around. The hard part was getting tickets before they sold out.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “Must have been nice. Hey, speaking of California, I’ve never been. Any hot tips for my first time?”

Billy’s sobered up enough that he keeps the _I’ll make your first time special_ comment from slipping out. “Where do I even start…” 


	3. Acts of Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is for people who believe that actions speak louder than words. They like to be shown how they're appreciated. Doing the smaller and bigger chores to make their lives easier or more comfortable is highly cherished by these folx”

Not for the first time in his life, Steve is thankful for Nancy Wheeler. They’re about two hours into a four hour flight headed for San Diego and aside from the absolute cluster-fuck of the O’Hare airport, which had been anticipated, things are going pretty well. Despite the lack of turbulence, Steve is still keyed up - he’s not really a huge fan of being in a metal tube suspended in the air. 

Across the aisle, Robin and Billy are sitting next to each other, hunched together, sharing earbuds and talking about work. Reviewing training videos or something. Steve’s not really sure, he’s only been half eavesdropping. 

Nancy sits with her shoulder against Steve’s and he’s grateful for her grounding presence. They may not have worked out as a couple, but he’s okay with that - he loves having her as a friend more than he ever actually romantically loved her. It works out. 

“I think Jane might dump Mike,” Nancy says, and she doesn’t sound particularly sad about her brother’s potential heartbreak. 

“Oh?” Steve’s always a slut for hot goss, and Nancy knows this, and he is once again thankful she’s sitting with him. “What makes you think that?” 

Nancy shrugs, casual. “It just seems like they’re growing apart. And I think she’s got a crush on Max to be honest.” 

“Ouch,” Steve mutters. “That’s gotta hurt Mike, huh?” 

“I mean, Mike has been repressing his crush on Will since the day he started at STS.” She gives a soft laugh. “I remember Mike not being able to stop talking about the ‘new guy, his name is Will and he’s into D&D and he’s seen all the 80s horror classics, and he knows all the cool Chicago restaurants because he’s local…’, for like a week. When he started dating Jane, I asked what she was like, and he said she’s nice, and that was that.” 

“No offense to your brother, but Jane deserves better. She’s a cool kid,” Steve says. He doesn’t mention the fact that Nancy’s been repressing a crush of her own on Barb for a while. 

“None taken, and I totally agree. She deserves Max.” Nancy leans around Steve, glancing at where Billy and Robin are still huddled together. She lowers her voice and leans in a little closer to him. “Speaking of the Mayfield-Hargrove siblings, how are things with Billy?” 

Steve groans. Nancy likes to pretend like something is gonna happen between him and Billy, like he has any chance of getting with him. “The same as usual?”

“You guys spent a lot of time together at the party last weekend,” Nancy points out. 

“Yeah, and?” Steve’s not sure how that’s anything special. “We hang out a lot. Because we’re friends. We’ve got a lot in common.” 

“Like the fact that you both wanna bang?” Nancy asks, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. 

Steve runs his hand down his face. They’ve had this conversation about one million times. “Nance, I’m telling you, he’s just _making fun of me_ with the lines, okay? It’s what he does. Like how he’s always calling Mike a punk ass bitch. It’s how he shows friendship.” 

“Except he’s not using the lines on anyone but you,” Nancy reminds him. “I think that has to mean something.” 

“I think it means he knows I’ve got a raging boner for him and he thinks it’s funny. He’s got in-jokes with everyone, this just happens to be ours.” He takes a minute to think about the past couple of days. “Although, he did send me an email that I think was supposed to be congratulating me about landing the account. And he weirdly gave me an actual compliment at the party.” 

“Ha!” Nancy yells, and Billy and Robin both glance over at them at the outburst. 

Steve just gives a strained little smile and a wave. Billy arches a brow at him before focusing back on the laptop with Robin. 

“So what did you do? Did you write back? Did you compliment him too?” Nancy looks so hopeful, Steve almost feels bad that he’s about to burst her bubble. 

“Um,” he hedges, and her face falls a little, like she knows what he’s about to say. “I filed the email away and I ignored the compliment. Normal behavior.” 

Nancy sighs deeply and leans back into her seat. “You’re unbelievable.” 

After they land and collect their luggage, they cram into an Uber and head to their hotel, a fancy thing with a set of marble steps leading up to the doorway. 

Steve grabs the handle of his suitcase and pulls, nearly falling over at the unexpected momentum he gains when the handle rips clean off the bag. He stares at the handle, still gripped tightly in his hand, then looks back at his suitcase, sitting at the bottom of the steps. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. 

Nancy and Robin are laughing from the top of the steps, having already successfully climbed them since their bags weren’t traitors. 

Billy huffs a quick laugh before snatching up Steve’s suitcase and wrestling it under his arm, his own suitcase gripped tightly in his other hand. “I got you, princess,” he says, then starts climbing the stairs. 

He watches as Billy takes the stairs at a speed that Steve wouldn’t even consider if he was unencumbered, let alone being weighed down by not one, but two pieces of luggage. Billy’s arm flexes with the effort of keeping Steve’s bag under control, but he otherwise looks completely unbothered, like carrying all that shit up a flight of stairs is _effortless_. 

Steve stares after Billy for maybe just a second too long, overcome with jealousy and a burning _want_ , before his brain comes back online and he hurries after Billy. 

After they check in, Billy insists on carrying Steve’s bag to his room, even though Steve keeps saying he can handle it himself. 

“I had to skip the gym today, you’d be doing me a favor if you just let me carry it,” Billy says. 

And Steve’s not really sure that’s true, but Nancy is shooting looks in his direction that are getting increasingly more obvious as he stands there and tries to argue, so he finally just caves. “Fine, fine. Come on.” 

When they get to his room, Steve swipes his room key and holds the door open. Billy shuffles by, and the doorway is small enough that he brushes against Steve as he goes, seemingly unaware of the effect that the contact has on Steve. 

Billy sets Steve’s suitcase down, then rolls his shoulders, stretches from side to side, trying to loosen up after carrying two suitcases around. 

Steve watches as Billy’s travel-rumpled shirt twists and stretches over his broad shoulders. Tries not to stare as the hem rides up, revealing sharp hips and tanned skin as Billy stretches his arms over his head. Billy runs his fingers through his curls, messy from riding in the Uber with the windows down. 

“Thanks,” Steve mumbles, just a little brain dead at the image of Billy looking like _that_ in his hotel room. 

Billy flashes him a grin. “Like I said, you did me a favor. Hope you packed your swimsuit. I wasn’t kidding at the party when I said the beach is a crucial stop for a Cali visit, and I fully intend to ensure we get out there at least once.” 

Steve thinks it’s kinda crazy Billy carried his luggage up to his room for him, and aside from the _princess_ thing, he didn’t even say anything mean about it. And now he’s acting like Steve somehow did him a favor by investing in shitty luggage, and he’s demanding they go to the beach. 

“Course. Would I really ask for your advice about my first trip to California and then ignore it?” 

Billy huffs a laugh. “Wouldn’t be the first time you ignored my brilliant advice. Remember when I told you to use the bathroom before we got onto the grounds at Lolla and you ignored me? Look how that turned out for you.” 

Steve still had flashbacks about the torture cambers aka sauna/porta potties at Lollapalooza. He definitely should have listened to Billy on that one. 

“I learned from my mistakes,” Steve huffs.

They stand there for a second, just staring at each other, and Steve has the absurd thought that he could just offer to share his room with Billy. You know, to save the company some money. 

He’s wondering if Billy usually sleeps in pajamas, or if that was just an exception that one time because they were camping and it was kinda chilly. Maybe he usually sleeps in his underwear. That’s a pretty normal thing to do. 

Definitely a normal thought to have about a guy when he’s standing in your hotel room. 

Billy seems to become aware of the fact they're just staring at each other at the same time Steve does, and they both snap out of it, laughing awkwardly before Billy grabs his own suitcase. 

“Better get some beauty rest. Tomorrow’s the big day,” Billy says, and then he’s slipping out of Steve’s room. 

Steve would deny it, even under threat of torture, but that night he dreams about being held up against a wall, his legs around Billy’s hips, Billy’s strong arms wrapped around him as they kiss, motions turning frantic as they pull clothes off of each other. 

It’s a good dream, for sure, and when he wakes up, Steve takes a second to mourn the fact that it won’t ever happen in real life. Then his phone goes off with a text from Robin, announcing that they’re meeting in the lobby in an hour for breakfast before their meeting, and he’s reminded that he has actual work to do today. 

* * *

It had been a long day for Billy - his patience being tested for nearly eight fuckng hours as he and Robin trained employees how to use the STS software while Nancy and Steve went off and schmoozed with management, or whatever it was they did.

As he sat on the beach with Nancy, Robin, and Steve, he found his patience was being tested in a wholly different way now. 

“I think it’s time for drinks,” Nancy announces. “What’s everyone want?” They all rattle off their drink of choice and Nancy stands up, then offers her hand to Robin. “Can you help me with the drinks, Rob?”

“For sure.” Robin throws a conspiring look at Billy, then rummages in her bag and pulls out her sunscreen. She tosses the bright orange bottle at Steve. “Hey buddy, your shoulders are getting a little pink. Time to reapply.” 

Oh god. Billy can fucking _tell_ what’s coming next, and he wonders when Nancy and Robin started plotting together. 

“Maybe Billy can help you?” Nancy offers. “We’ll be back in a bit.” And with that, they both walk off, and Billy can hear them laughing, most likely at their own perceived victory over him. 

“Hmmph. Can do it myself,” Steve mutters petulantly, uncapping the sunscreen and slathering a fresh layer on his shoulders. “Ow, actually, that is sore.” 

Billy pushes his sunglasses up on top of his hair and looks closer at Steve’s shoulders, which are actually pink. And now that he’s looking, he can see that Steve is really botching his sunscreen application. 

“Dude, I know you can do it yourself, but you’re gonna end up with weird red spots if you don’t do a better job,” Billy warns. 

Steve glares at him over the top of his sunglasses. “We had summer in Indiana, too, ya know. You Cali kids don’t have a monopoly on sunblock. I know what I’m doing.” He rubs at his shoulders, still missing parts of his skin. 

Billy watches for another moment before deciding it would be irresponsible of him not to intervene. Like, this probably counts as another _act of service_ , like the suitcase thing. He hauls himself up onto his knees and crawls over to kneel behind Steve. 

Steve makes an _adorably_ indignant sound when Billy snatches the bottle of sunscreen out of his hand. Billy thinks about how he’d made almost the same sound when the handle had broken off his suitcase, tries not to imagine what other kinds of sounds Steve would make under different circumstances. 

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to do it yourself,” Billy says. “Let me help. Relax. You earned it after a long day of doing whatever it is you Sales people do.” 

Billy squeezes sunscreen into his hands and starts at the base of Steve’s neck, smoothing over his shoulders, and he feels Steve relax under his touch. 

“What I do isn’t as stressful as what you do,” Steve says. “Feel like I should be helping you out instead.” 

Billy works his way down Steve’s biceps, ignores the temptation to tell Steve, in detail, the number of various ways they could help each other _relax_. He focuses on getting even coverage across Steve’s shoulders and back, hands gliding easily over Steve’s warm skin. It takes all his concentration to not say something he’d probably regret, so he just keeps his mouth shut for a minute while he works. 

When Billy's sure his handiwork won’t result in misshapen burn spots, he finally trusts himself to speak again. “I couldn’t do what you do though.” 

He brings his hands back to the spot where Steve’s neck meets his shoulders and rubs his thumbs over the moles that dot his shoulder blades. Steve hums softly, and Billy applies some pressure, massaging Steve’s traps, motions smooth with the help of the sunscreen. “It takes a certain set of skills to talk to people the way you do,” he says, thinking he’d rather listen to Dustin talk about coding than spend all day on the phone talking to people like Steve does. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just hums in response. Billy spreads his hands out over Steve’s shoulder blades, applying pressure, working from Steve’s spine outward, wrapping his fingers lightly around Steve’s ribs as he gets to the outside edge of his back. 

He’s working his way down Steve’s back with the outward motion when Steve glances at him over his shoulder. “You giving me a full on massage right now?” 

Billy freezes, hands on Steve’s waist, face just inches from Steve’s where he’s looking at him over the top of his sunglasses. 

“Drinks!” Robin cheers, and Billy pulls his hands away, flops back over onto his own towel. Robin’s got something bright red in one hand and his Screwdriver in the other, and he’s so fucking grateful for her in this moment. 

“Took you long enough,” he complains as he accepts his drink. 

Nancy snorts. “Looks like you were doing just fine without us.” She hands Steve his Mojito and sits back down next to him, sipping her own bright blue colored slushy drink. 

“Billy insisted I was missing spots,” Steve grumbles. 

Robin nods. “I’m sure he was very thorough.”

“Didn’t wanna hear him complaining about sunburn for four hours tomorrow,” Billy explains. 

“You wanna know what I think?” Nancy asks, and Billy feels a primal sense of fear wash over him. Nancy is too fucking observant for her own good. “I think what we should be complaining about tomorrow, is hangovers. Today was great, we’re all great, let’s have some fucking drinks.” 

She seems a little buzzed already, like her and Robin got a head start and had a drink before they came back, but Billy’s not going to argue with the idea of getting wasted on the beach.

After a few hours and quite a few drinks, the sun has set and they’re all a little too giggly to be in public anymore. They pack up their stuff and when Steve stands up, he sways so far that Billy’s worried he’s gonna fall over, so he reaches out and grabs Steve’s arm. “You good there, buddy?” 

A laugh bubbles up out of Steve. “M’fine. I’m the Mo-ji-to King.” 

Robin and Nancy both snort at that, and Billy rolls his eyes. They tend to forget Steve is more of a lightweight than the rest of them. “Okay, is the Mojito King able to walk?” 

Steve pulls his arm out of Billy’s hand. “Don’t patronize me,” he mumbles. He takes a step, too big compared to his normal gait, then stumbles. Billy reaches out again and this time Steve grabs onto him. “Okay, maybe patronize me, just a little,” he pouts. 

Robin reaches out and grabs Billy’s towel, freeing up his arms to manage Steve. He wraps one arm around Steve’s waist, and Steve puts his arm around Billy’s shoulder. Billy grabs Steve’s wrist with his other hand to make sure his arm doesn’t slip off Billy's shoulders. 

“Been a while since I’ve seen you this sloppy,” Robin says to Steve. “Forgot how cute you are when you’re like this.” 

Steve blushes and hides his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Stop it,” he giggles, waving his free hand at Robin. He turns his face towards her, still keeping his head on Billy. “You don’t even like guys.” 

“Nah, but I can objectively say that giggly, blushy Steve Harrington is adorable.” Robin looks at Nancy. “What do you think, Nance?”

“Totally adorable,” Nancy confirms.

“What about you, Billy? What do you think?” Robin asks, and the corner of her mouth ticks up in a small smile. 

Billy huffs. “I think we should get back to the hotel before Harrington passes out and I have to carry him back.” 

Steve gasps. “You could totally do it though. You’re so strong!” He wraps a hand around Billy’s bicep and squeezes and Billy has to count to three to keep himself from reacting or saying anything. 

Billy shifts under Steve’s weight, considers actually carrying him back just to make things easier, but decides it wouldn’t be worth the hassle he’d get from Robin. “Are we leaving yet?” 

When they get back to the hotel, Billy walks Steve up to his room, since he knows where it is from the baggage debacle. Steve fumbles with the key before they finally get the door open and Billy is pulling Steve into the room. 

Billy’s only half kidding when he asks,“Can I trust you not to choke on your own vomit?” 

Steve throws his head back laughing and stumbles at the change in his balance, pulling Billy with the movement. Their legs get all tangled up, and Billy does his best to keep them from braining themselves on the nightstand, but that means they end up crumpling onto the bed together. Billy falls on his back, Steve landing on top of him with a soft “oof”, still laughing. 

“Your hair is so nice,” Steve mumbles, running his hand through Billy’s curls. “Really soft.” 

Billy is _not_ equipped to handle this right now. “Yours would be too if you didn’t use so much product,” Billy points out. 

He’s not sure what to do here. He thinks the best course of action would be rolling Steve off of him and fucking hightailing it out of the room, but he wants to make sure Steve gets settled into bed, and throwing him off of his body and onto the bed seems like a sure fire way to make Steve puke right now. 

Steve frowns. “Yeah, but I don’t have curls.” He wraps some of Billy’s hair around his finger, the natural curl making it easy. 

“Perms exist,” Billy says, and Steve laughs, buries his face in Billy’s neck. 

“Can you imagine me with a perm?” Steve’s voice is garbled against the skin of Billy’s neck and Billy _really_ can’t handle this. 

He taps at Steve’s hip, gently pushing him a little bit. “I’d rather not imagine it,” Billy says. “Come on, let’s get you settled in.” 

Steve wraps his other arm around Billy’s neck and goes boneless on top of him. “I am settled. You’re pretty comfy considering you’re made of muscle.” 

Billy takes a deep breath, pushing at Steve a little harder. “Dude, this is not a feasible way to sleep. You need to get off.” 

Steve snorts, and Billy realizes a second too late what he’s just said. He keeps the _obvious_ joke about getting off to himself. 

“For real, let’s go, King Steve.” Billy starts wriggling under Steve, and is rewarded with an annoyed groan before Steve rolls off of him. 

Billy sits up, glances over his shoulder at Steve. “Get up and brush your teeth.” 

“So bossy!” Steve huffs, but he gets up heads into the bathroom. 

Billy takes the three minutes of peace he has to will his boner away. He’s thinking he’s set when Steve walks out of the bathroom in just his fucking boxer briefs. 

They’ve seen each other in swim trunks. They’ve seen each other in shorts. But Billy’s never had a real reason to see Steve in his underwear, and it’s fucking killing him, especially when his brain is helpfully merging the sight with his memories of Steve layng on top of him minutes ago. Billy stands up abruptly, barely manages to not fucking _run for it_ when Steve heads towards the bed. 

“Thanks for helping me back,” Steve grumbles as he crawls under the covers. 

Billy busies himself with plugging in Steve’s phone. “I’d probably get in trouble with Hop if his favorite employee didn’t make it back in one piece.” Steve grunts at that. “Don’t forget to set your alarm.” 

Steve grabs his phone, and Billy makes sure he’s got at least one alarm set for the morning before he leaves and goes back to his own room to sleep, the phantom feeling of Steve’s fingers in his hair the last thing he registers before he passes out. 


	4. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “People with touch as their love language feel loved when they receive physical signs of affection, including kissing, holding hands, and cuddling. Physical intimacy and touch serve as a powerful emotional connector. They value the feeling of warmth and comfort that comes with physical touch”

Steve grips the armrest, acutely aware of the fact that his knuckles went white with the strain of it a few minutes ago. 

They’d had perfect luck on the way out but now, on the way back to Chicago, they’re having some major turbulence. And just his luck, he’s sitting next to Billy this time because Nancy and Robin wanted to talk about nail polish or something. The details were a little fuzzy, but the main point was that the girls insisted on sitting next to each other. 

So now Steve’s in seat 13B, an aisle seat at least so he doesn’t have to see the world rushing up towards them when the plane goes down, next to Billy, trying not to make any noise to give away the fact that he is freaking the hell out. He glances over at Billy and the guy’s the picture of relaxed; eyes closed, earbuds in, legs splayed out (as much as airline seats allow). Steve’s knee bounces harder at the sight. Now he’s nervous _and_ actively lusting after Billy Hargrove. Perfect. Just perfect. 

“If I’d known you were gonna bounce your leg the whole time, I would have brought a Xanax for you,” Billy says, cracking an eye open to look at Steve and pulling out one of his earbuds. 

Steve slaps his hand down on his leg in an effort to keep from bouncing it. It works for about a second before it starts again. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just...I hate flying so much,” Steve groans. 

Billy huffs a little laugh at that. “Yeah, I can fucking tell. Can I help at all?” 

Steve thinks about the last time Billy helped him and how it had ended up with Steve on top of him in his fucking hotel bed. 

Nope, nope, nope. Not helping the actively lusting thing. 

“One time in high school, Tommy and Carol and I went to this haunted house and I got so scared that Tommy held my hand,” Steve rushes out. “Afterwards, Carol pointed out we’d even laced our fingers together and asked if she should be worried about our video game sleepovers.” 

Billy laughs, real this time. “And did she need to be worried?” 

“Nah, Tommy’s not really my type.” Steve knows that Billy has met Tommy a few times, but Tommy doesn’t work at STS so Billy hasn't gotten the full picture yet. “He thinks Toby Maguire is the best Spiderman.” 

“Blasphemy.” Billy looks genuinely offended. 

“Exactly. So you can see why it never would have worked between the two of us,” Steve says. 

They hit a rougher patch and Steve actually yelps, squeezes his eyes closed for a second until they get out of it. 

“Did it help at the haunted house, holding Tommy’s hand?” Billy asks. 

“Yeah,” Steve mumbles. And he hopes that Billy is picking up what he’s trying to put down here, and he really doesn’t want to have to ask for it. 

Billy looks kind of hesitant when he asks, “So, would it help now if I held your hand?”

Rather than answering, Steve just holds his own hand out, palm up. Billy puts his huge, warm hand over Steve’s and locks their fingers together, pulls their hands over into his lap. 

Steve absolutely refuses to over-analyze this moment, and instead goes for more distraction. 

“Really could go for one of those mojitos right now,” Steve says. 

Billy snorts at that. “They were alright, but I think being on the beach made ‘em taste better. The true measure of a tropical drink is if it still tastes good off the beach.” 

“Is that so?” Steve glances over at him, and Billy looks so serious considering he just said something so silly. 

Billy nods. “Yeah, trust me, as a native Californian transplanted to Chicago, I can confirm that either you midwest losers don’t know how to make a drink or the sun and the sand really distort your taste buds. I’m thinking it’s the second one.”

They fall into a comfortable silence after that and Billy offers up his other earbud. Steve puts it in and hears that Billy’s been listening to a playlist that he would best describe as _coffeeshop chic_. It’s a lot of soft voices and acoustic instruments, and Steve sees now why he was so chill. 

There’s more turbulence, and Steve squeezes Billy’s hand in something _just short_ of a death grip. 

Billy doesn’t say anything about it, just looks at him and goes “Okay, fuck, marry, kill - Voldemort, Bane, and Thanos.” 

“Bane as in the bad guy from that Batman movie?” Billy nods in confirmation, and Steve’s brain scrambles to think about each of them in turn, trying to determine the least horrible combination. “Jesus, this is difficult in a bad way - there are no good choices here.” 

Billy just shrugs. “I like a challenge.” 

“Fine.” Steve weighs his options. “I guess kill Thanos because he’s a giant grape. Fuck Voldemort, but, like with the Tom Riddle face, and marry Bane, because I know it’s Tom Hardy under the mask.” 

“I respect your decisions,” Billy says. “But I’d probably fuck Bane and marry Voldemort.” 

Steve shakes his head. “I gotta draw a hard and fast line in the sand. I’m willing to fuck a genocidal purist but I don’t wanna marry him.” 

“You make a compelling point,” Billy frowns, like he hadn’t considered that. “Maybe loving me will change his heart.” 

“I think you’re an optimist there, but at least we can both agree Thanos has gotta die. How about Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, and Oscar Isaac,” Steve offers. 

Billy sucks in a dramatic breath. “Making me choose between the Star Wars trio? Fucking brutal.” 

“See, that’s what I mean, you gotta make it hard in a good way to keep it interesting.” Steve realizes what he’s said and braces for impact - he can basically already hear the _make it hard in a good way_ joke from a mile away. 

Billy’s eyes glint, clearly holding something back, before he says. “You’ve got a good point. Alright, fuck John, marry Oscar, and kill Daisy. We have a real nice funeral for her though, and Oscar and I name one of our cacti after her.”

Steve feels weirdly disappointed and can’t figure out why at first, and then he realizes he _wanted_ Billy to make the innuendo. It’s been a while since he was on the receiving end of Billy’s patented in-your-face lines, and he’s wondering why. 

“I can tell by the face you’re making that you disagree,” Billy says, nodding at Steve.

Steve schools his face into something closer to normal. “Ah, I mean, I’d probably fuck Daisy, marry John, and kill Oscar, but if you let me think about it for too long, I’d change my answer over and over.They’re all great.” 

They spend another 20 minutes playing increasingly intense games of fuck marry kill before Steve yawns, long and drawn out. 

“Why don’t you just close your eyes for a bit?” Billy turns the volume down on the music. “I promise I’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

Steve laughs at that, but doesn’t argue. A little nap couldn’t hurt. 

When Steve wakes up, the first thing he notices is that his neck is killing him. The second thing he notices is that he’s drooling on Billy’s shoulder. The third thing is that Billy is touching his face, hand gently cupping his jaw.

“Thought I was gonna have to upgrade from tapping to straight up slapping if you didn’t wake up soon,” Billy murmurs, his hand slipping away as Steve sits up. “We’re about to land. Figured it was better to wake you up before the impact from the wheels hitting the ground woke you up forcefully.” 

Steve is actually really grateful Billy thought of that. The jolt of the initial landing is bad enough when you’re ready for it, he can’t imagine how bad it would be if it blindsided you.

After a smooth landing, Steve finally extricates his hand from Billy’s and pulls it back into his own space, trying not to pout over the fact that he no longer had a reason to hold Billy’s hand. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, holding his hand up as if that encompasses everything he’s thanking him for. 

Billy laughs, flexing his hand as he does. “I’ll send you the medical bill for my carpal reconstruction surgery and the no doubt fucking months of physical therapy that I’ll need to get back to normal hand function.” 

Steve can feel they’re on the edge of another bad line here - something about normal hand functioning and hand jobs or jerking off or something - but he has a feeling even if he handed it to Billy on a silver platter, he wouldn’t take the bait. 

“You could talk to Mike and see if you’re eligible for worker’s comp,” Steve shrugs. 

Billy huffs a laugh. “I would rather have a useless, crushed up hand than ever willingly talk to Mke Wheeler.” 

Steve has the absolutely horrible idea to offer to kiss it to make it better. That would be so, so, stupid. 

“I could kiss it and make it better?” Steve says, barely managing to get a mocking tone in his voice. 

“I’m dying to see where this goes,” Robin interrupts from the aisle, “But we’ve got an Uber waiting to take us back to the park and ride, and I’m not about to rack up those waiting fees.” 

* * *

Billy looks out the window and frowns. Overcast and windy today, again. Fucking Chicago weather. “We wasted so much time inside when we were in Cali.” 

“Almost like we had to do our jobs,” Robin deadpans. “We were stuck inside doing our jobs and you didn’t get to bang Steve. It was a real let down all around.” 

“Oh my god.” Billy throws his pen at her, but she deflects it with her notepad. “Shut up.” 

Robin leans forward, elbows on the conference room table, chin in her hands. “Speaking of banging Steve, or _not_ banging Steve I guess, how is the plan going? Which ones have we tried?” 

“This isn’t really a _we_ situation,” Billy points out. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you and Nancy are suddenly meddling. You needed a four hour flight to discuss nail polish? Really?” 

“We DID talk about nail polish. For a bit,” Robin defends. “Then we talked about how it’s a shame nail polish is so feminized and how oppressive gender roles end up being a detriment to people of all genders.”

Billy has to admit that does sound like at least a four hour conversation.

“It seemed like you and Steve were enjoying your plane ride anyway so I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Robin says. “I mean you were holding hands, how are you still striking out here?” 

Billy rolls his eyes. “We were holding hands because he was _scared_. That’s different.” 

“Fine, I’m willing to concede it’s not the context we’re looking for, but it still happened and I think we should recognize that victory.” 

Did that really still count? “She put a bag over my head,” Billy sings. 

“Still counts,” Robin finishes the lyric. “But for real how is the plan going?”

“He ignored my email and got confused when I complimented him, so obviously words of affirmation wasn’t working,” Billy starts. “Then, I carried his suitcase for him and I think he might have just thought I was showing off because he kept, just like, looking at me. The sunscreen thing happened and I accidentally started giving him a fucking massage and he judged me for that, so acts of service wasn’t really a success either.” 

“Still counts,” Robin sing-songs. 

“ _Anyway_ , then we held hands because he was scared, so the touch thing isn’t off to a great start either.” Billy frowns, realizing he’s down to just two more options. And then what is he supposed to do? 

Robin hums for a moment, nodding, before she says, “Maybe you’re just used to immediate gratification. You gotta wait it out. See what happens.” 

“Thought the whole fuckng point was not having to wait anymore? To make it clear what my intentions were so we could _do something_ about it.” Billy throws his arm over his face, fully aware he’s being dramatic and not giving a single fuck. 

“There is still the option of using your words. That’s, like, always on the table,” Robin reminds him. Billy just sighs. “Anyway, quit moping, we’ve gotta get to that stupid Company Morale Building thing.” 

Billy groans. “I know it wasn’t his idea, but I’m blaming this stupid shit on Mike Wheeler.” 

They head down to the first floor conference room, where HR is holding a Company Morale Building Session. Apparently, they felt that employees across departments needed to build better relationships with each other and their solution was to hold these meet ups with different departments where they had to do bonding activities or whatever. This week, it was Outreach & Education and the Sales Departments. 

Billy snags a couple of seats in the back for them while Robin grabs coffee and brings it over.

A few rows in front of them, Steve is sitting by Greg from Sales. Billy thinks his name is Greg anyway. The one thing he knows for sure is it’s the guy who is always trying to convince people there’s a secret Russain base under some mall in small-town Indiana that was built in the 80s. It’s a surprisingly robust conspiracy theory. 

The facilitator in the front of the room claps his hands and starts talking about building morale through building trust or something. Billy’s only half paying attention, keeps staring at Steve. This is the first time he’s run into the guy since their trip to California last week, and he’s wishing they’d gotten to the training sooner so he could have at least sat next to him. 

Then, all of a sudden, everyone is standing up. Clearly he missed something. He glances at Robin, rushing to stand up so it at least looks like he knows what he’s doing. “What’s happening?” he whispers, following her into the open part of the conference room. 

“We’re going to be paired up with someone from Sales and then we’re doing trust falls,” Robin says. Billy laughs, because that’s gotta be a joke. She levels him with a stare. “I wish this was a joke.” 

The facilitator stands in front of the group and announces, “For the sake of simplicity, you’ve been paired with someone from the other department alphabetically.” He starts rattling off names and when Robin walks away to find her partner, Billy knows he has to start paying attention because there’s nobody left to keep him on track. 

“Harrington from Sales, you’ll be with Hargrove from Outreach & Education,” the facilitator calls, and really, Billy should have been able to see that coming. 

Billy spots Steve and heads over to him. “Thank fuck Greg doesn’t have a last name that starts with H,” he says, rather than _hello_ or _hey_ or _how’s it going_ like a normal fucking person. 

Steve squints at him. “Who’s Greg?” 

“The guy you were sitting by? The russian conspiracy theory guy?” Billy looks around for the dude but can’t find him. 

“You mean Jeff?” Steve laughs. “You’re horrible at names. And his last name is Harrison, so actually, you were dangerously close to having him as a partner.” 

“I’m only bad with names when I don’t care,” Billy says. “You’re probably the best partner I could ask for.” Billy realizes what _that_ sounds like and quickly adds on “I mean, for this exercise. Sales is full of a bunch of fuck heads.” 

The facilitator is clapping his hands again, having paired everyone off. “Alright, now, we’re going to have Outreach & Education do the falling first. But not really falling because the Sales employee _will_ catch them.” 

“You ready to fall for me?” Steve asks, wiggling his hands out in front of him in a move that isn’t exactly inspiring confidence in Billy that he can catch him. 

Billy thinks _I already am falling for you_. Doesn’t say that. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow at Steve. “If you drop me, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.” 

“Noted,” Steve mutters, and Billy turns around, crosses his arms over his chest like they were instructed to do. 

“On the count of three,” the facilitator announces. “One. Two.Three.”

Billy closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and leans back. Just as he’s gaining momentum, truly concerned Steve will let him fall, he feels Steve’s hands on his back and Steve gives a small “oof” with the effort of catching him. 

He looks up at Steve, his hair falling around his face as grins down at Billy. 

“Looks like I avoided getting my ass kicked,” Steve says.

Billy snorts a laugh, and Steve helps push him back up to standing. “The day is still young, Harrington.” 

“That’s fair,” Steve concedes. He glances at Billy’s arms, then back up to his face. “I was going to make a joke about kicking your ass if you drop me but I really don’t think it works the other way around.” 

Billy flexes, notices that Steve watches the movement. “Yeah, I think I can catch you.” 

“You better,” Steve threatens, pointing at him, before he turns around. “Because I’m a catch,” he says over his shoulder. 

Billy snorts, but doesn’t disagree. The facilitator counts to three, and Steve starts leaning back. 

Just to fuck with him, Billy lets Steve fall for longer than necessary before loopng his arms under Steve’s arms and around his chest. 

“I hate you,” Steve seethes, looking up at Billy. “I thought you were gonna let me fall.” 

“You would deserve it for that pun.” Billy wraps his arms around Steve’s chest a little tighter, trying to communicate with his arms and hands that he wouldn’t ever let Steve fall. 

Steve rests his hands on Billy’s forearms. “We both know bad jokes are the best jokes.” He moves his hands up to pat at Billy’s biceps. “Can’t believe I was worried about you catching me when you’ve got these bad boys.” 

Billy unwraps his arms from Steve before he gets too comfortable holding the guy _at work_ and helps him stand back up. Takes a few breaths to stop himself from offering to show Steve all the stuff he can do with ‘those bad boys’. He’s not really sure what he should say. 

“Nail polish,” Billy says, latching onto the conversation that Robin and Nancy had on the plane since it’s still fresh in his mind “Thoughts?” 

Steve looks confused, opens his mouth to say something, but then the facilitator is moving them into the next exercise, and they get separated. 

Billy spends the rest of the stupid fucking session watching Steve, thinking about how cute he’d looked with his hair falling over his face when he looked down at Billy during the trust fall, trying not to imagine seeing it in a completely different context. 


	5. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is a pretty straightforward love language. It's not about the monetary value but the symbolic thought behind the item. People with this style recognize and value the gift-giving process: the careful reflection, the deliberate choosing of the object to represent the relationship, and the emotional benefits from receiving the present.”

Steve dumps his work bag out on his kitchen counter, everything spilling out at once. He scrambles to grab the crown that rolls out before it falls off the edge. He runs fingers over the intricate design, the metal of it cool against his skin, then rummages around in his pile of stuff before he finds the note and reads it again. 

> _The mojito king deserves a crown_
> 
> _\- B_

He slips the crown on, because why not, and paces in his kitchen. Billy had given him a gift. A crown. And it’s not even a cheap-ass plastic one, ether. It’s legit. 

Steve considers the note and is reminded of the email that Billy sent him about San Diego - it seems like it’s maybe supposed to be nice but it’s kind of got this tone of mockery. Steve’s not really sure how he’s supposed to take it. 

Maybe he needs an outside opinion, he thinks as he calls Dustin. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mister ‘There Were No Good Magnets In the Gift Shop’,” Dustn greets. 

Steve sighs. “They all just said California, none of them said San Diego, and I know how you are about your souvenirs being specific.” 

“Your lies and excuses have no power over me.” Dustin sniffs indignantly. “I’m going to forgive you though. What’s up?” 

“Something is going on with Billy,” Steve says - no point beating around the bush. 

Dustin whoops on the other end. “Did you guys _finally_ get together? About time.” 

“What? No!” Steve shakes his head, paces a little faster. “No, we didn’t get together. He bought me a crown.” 

“A crown?” Dustin sounds incredibly confused, and Steve realizes the context would probably help. 

“When we were in San Diego--”

“UGH,” Dustin groans, cutting Steve off. “Dude, stop rubbing it in my face that I didn’t get to go to Cali with you.”

“I’m trying to give you context, for the crown thing.” Dustin huffs on the other end, and Steve takes that as permission to continue. “We were drinking on the beach and I kept saying I was the mojito king. So he gave me a crown.” 

Dustin laughs. “You’re embarrassing when you’re sloppy drunk.” 

“That’s not the point of the story.” Steve runs a hand down his face. “I’m trying to figure out why he’s being nice to me. Why would he be giving me a gift? Is he making fun of me? What’s _happening_?” 

“I don’t know,” Dustin says, and the exaggerated tone makes it clear he’s making fun of Steve. “Maybe he’s mad at you?” 

Dustin might be joking, but maybe he’s got a point. Steve thinks back over the last week or so and tries to determine if he did something to make Billy mad. Or make Billy think Steve was mad at him. Why else would he be acting like this? Billy was usually 3 parts dirty jokes and 2 parts cocky swagger. There’s never any part of him that’s _sweet_ , never any part of him that would be buying gifts for Steve of all people. It wasn’t making any sense at all.

“Do I want to know why you’re wearing a crown?”

Steve jumps at the sound of someone else in his apartment, clutches his chest, has a second of pure panic before he realizes it’s just Nancy. He bitterly thinks to himself that she could have at least knocked, but then he figures he shouldn’t have given her a key to his place if he wasn’t prepared for her to just walk in. 

He can hear Dustin shrieking ‘ _wait, you’re wearing it?!’_ as he hangs up on him.

“It was a gift,” he says to Nancy. He thinks he probably could take the crown off, but honestly, why? 

Nancy arches a brow at him as she sets their take out down on the counter, shoving his work bag contents off to the side. The note from Billy flutters to the ground and Nancy bends over to pick it up before Steve even registers what has happened. 

“A gift from Billy,” Nancy concludes, smug smile on her face. She turns the note to face him. “Or is there another B in your life that knows about your Cali beach escapades?” 

“Ah, no.” Steve feels his face going a little pink. “It’s from Billy.” 

“Interesting,” she says, her offhanded tone completely forced. She unpacks their food and sits down at the counter.

Steve slumps down on the stool next to her, digging into his sushi. “Am I imagining things? Is he acting different?” He thinks about holding hands with Billy on the plane, falling asleep on his shoulder, the way Billy had held him during that trust fall exercise. And now apparently Billy was buying him gifts, and he knows he’s not losing his mind, but he needs validation. 

Nancy frowns, and Steve’s not sure if she’s judging what he said or the fact that he’d said it with a mouth full of sushi. 

“Do you really want to get into this?” She sets her chopsticks down, folds her hands in front of her, and Steve knows that he really _doesn’t_ want to get into this. Because he knows what she’s gonna say, because she thinks something is actively happening between him and Billy. 

“No, actually, I don’t. Forget it.” He shoves another dragon roll in his mouth just to spite her, because he’s pretty sure she was judging him for the mouth full of food thing earlier. “Tell me about something else,” he garbles around the roll. 

She glances at him, a little sad, before she covers it up with a smile. “Jane dumped Mike.” 

“Oh my god, what?!” Steve covers his mouth to keep his food inside. “When?”

“Just like a couple hours ago. He called me and he wasn’t even sad. He was just like ‘I think Jane is into Max and also I’m single now’. It was wild,” Nancy recounts. 

Steve shakes his head in disbelief. “Wow, sorry for Mike, but like, good for Jane.” 

“That’s what I said.” Nancy laughs a little. “And Mike agreed. So I don’t think he’s too heartbroken.” 

“Any bets on how long it will take for Mike to get with Will?” Steve is thinking it’ll be a couple weeks maybe. 

Nancy considers it. “By the next group hang out for sure.” 

“We don’t even know when that’s gonna be,” Steve points out. “That’s a pretty vague timeframe.” 

As if on cue, both of their phones go off with a text. Steve swipes his phone open to find a text from Billy in the group chat. 

> **;) Billy:** Missing Cali. We should hit up the beach for paddle boarding this weekend. 

The group chat blows up with responses, like none of them have anything better to do but sit around and text each other, and Steve reads them as they come in. 

> **Mad Max** : Still bitter you didn’t take me with you but you can make up for it w paddleboard
> 
> **DHendys** : Yeah, some of us didn’t get to go to California!!! And we’re bitter!!!! 
> 
> **Luke Skywalker:** I’m down! And generally bitter but not mad about Cali. too hot.
> 
> **Bird Girl:** Erica and I are doing manicures on Sunday so my vote is Saturday 
> 
> **Luke Skywalker** : Cannot believe my sister has invaded my friend group
> 
> **DHendys** : To be clear, I will go paddle boarding but I will be complaining the whole time
> 
> **The Only Decent Kid** : Sounds like fun, good idea Billy! 
> 
> **Jane:** @ Max let’s go swimsuit shopping tomorrow night. I want a one piece for paddleboarding
> 
> **Mad Max** : Hell yes :) 
> 
> **MFWheeler:** can you guys plan your date in a separate group chat that doesn’t have me in it 
> 
> **MFWheeler:** ps hey guys Jane and I broke up. we’re cool tho
> 
> **MFWheller:** anyway I’ll be there
> 
> **The Only Decent Kid** : glad you’re coming, Mike :)
> 
> **Luke Skywalker** : @ Mike we could just kick u out of this group chat so u don’t have to see it 
> 
> **DHendys** : Official petition for removing mike from the group chat 
> 
> **Bird Girl:** but then where are we gonna get our meme content
> 
> **MFWheeler** : thanx guys 
> 
> **Mad Max** : official petition to add erica to the group chat. bc she’s cool and she has memes 
> 
> **Luke Skywalker** : this feels like a lose/lose for me
> 
> **Jane** : can we be nice please 
> 
> **The Cooler Wheeler:** I’m in as long as i can invite Barb along 
> 
> **Bird Girl:** if we’re inviting our desperate crushes, then I’m bringing Heather 
> 
> **;) Billy:** all desperate crushes welcome
> 
> **;) Billy** : @ Harrington are you in

“Oh my god,” Nancy says out loud, laughing. “Could he be anymore obvious?” 

Steve scrunches his nose up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Nancy drops her phone and buries her face in her hands. “Billy. Desperate crush. It’s so obvious.” 

“He’s just asking because I’m the only one who hasn’t responded yet!” He starts typing something and Nancy leans over, presumably to see what he’s gonna say before he sends it. 

“Why do you have a winky face next to Billy’s name in your phone?” She scrolls up in the group chat, checking out the other names. “And thanks for calling me the cooler Wheeler I guess?” 

“Billy edited my contacts a while ago,” Steve explains. “We were high at Robin’s and it was funny at the time.” 

“And you haven’t changed them back?” Nancy gives him a look.

“Noooooo….” Steve ignores the prolonged look Nancy gives him, and he quickly sends off a text in the group chat.

> _Count me in as long as there’s snacks involved._

* * *

It had taken an enormous amount of self-control to _not_ say that Steve was the only snack he needed, but somehow Billy had managed to send a normal text in the group chat setting up a time for paddleboarding before the whole conversation had devolved into a Mike Wheeler roast session. Poor kid got dumped and still got relentlessly burned by his friends. At least they didn’t actually delete him from the group chat. 

The rest of the week had dragged on, but now Billy is sitting in the sand, sun shining down on him, waves a comforting sound as they wash in on the shore. 

His peace is immediately disturbed when the rest of the squad shows up. Everyone is yelling and laughing, and there’s a round of hugs like they haven’t seen each other in ages despite 90% of them working together. 

Billy lounges in the sand, watches as Steve works his way around the group pulling people into hugs. Finally, having had his arms around everyone else, Steve flops down in the sand next to Billy. 

He tries not to feel bitter about Steve not giving him a hug. Instead, he pulls out the bag of Sweet Chili Doritos he’d brought, holding them out to Steve. “Got you chips.” Considerably cheaper than the crown had been, but still a gift. 

“My favorite!” Steve rips the bag open and starts eating them. “Thanks, man.” 

Billy thinks maybe food wasn’t the best gift option in terms of his Five Step Plan to Woo Steve Harrington. Like, maybe it was too casual, because Steve doesn’t seem fucking _wooed_. 

“What a good day for the beach. Another brilliant idea from Billy Hargrove,” Steve comments as he pulls his shirt up over his head and drops it in the sand. 

Billy thinks _yeah getting you in those tiny swim trunks was a brilliant idea_. “Add it to the list.”

“Should I put it over or under _calling Bruce Wayne a furry in the group chat_?” 

Billy cringes at the memory of the onslaught of texts he’d gotten in response to that. “Okay, not every idea I have is a gem BUT he wears a bat suit so I stand by the sentiment.” 

They both laugh at that before falling into a comfortable silence, watching the waves wash in over the sand for a bit. “It’s not as nice as San Diego, but this is pretty great.” Steve murmurs. 

“Speaking of San Diego, how are things going with the account?” After training, Billy pretty much loses touch with their clients, but he knows Sales usually keeps up with them, and that account had been a pretty big deal. 

Steve grins. “Really good. They’re super happy with the software, and Hop was really impressed with how well everything went. He says I should apply for Newby’s position when he retires in a couple years.” 

Billy wants to reach out and hug Steve, because that promotion would be a great fit for him, but he holds back. “That’s fuckng amazing.” _You’re amazing,_ Billy thinks, but doesn’t say. 

Robin walks up and ruffles Steve’s hair, and Billy has a second where he envies the ease with which she touches him. He wants his hands in Steve’s hair, too. “Dingus. You come to the beach to talk about work or did you come to the beach to paddle board?” 

Billy looks out in the water and realizes he and Steve are the only ones left on the shore. 

Steve scrunches his face up and his face goes a little pink. “I’ve never actually gone paddle boarding before.” 

Robin’s eyes blaze with joy as she looks at Billy, and he feels a sense of deja vu, like he knows she’s gonna meddle again. “Don’t worry, I’m sure Billy can give you some pointers.” And with that, she heads off into the water. 

Steve looks at Billy, a little hopefully. “I mean, I know you’re really good at it, so if you don’t wanna waste your time teaching me, I’m happy to sit here on the beach and just watch.” 

“No fuckin way,” Billy says, and he hauls himself up onto his feet, turns around and pulls Steve up, too. “You’re not missing out on the fun.” 

When they get out in the water, Billy goes a few rounds getting up on the board, explaining to Steve what he’s doing before he makes Steve do it. 

He’s about 30 seconds into the whole exercise of teaching Steve when he realizes he’s made a mistake. It’s almost like Steve is _trying_ to get him to use some kind of line, making the whole thing sound way more sexual than it needs to be. 

“Alright so I just climb on top?”

“Oh, I like being on my knees.” 

“Where do I put my hands on the shaft?”

“How long should my strokes be?”

Billy’s about to just fucking swim away when Steve says, “Alright, okay, I think I have the hang of the kneeling thing. How do I stand up now?” 

“You sure you wanna get off your knees? It’s gonna be kinda hard.” 

Steve’s eye’s flash and he grins, a little too big. “Hmm. ‘Kinda hard’ has never scared me. Unless you think I’m good on my knees?” He runs his tongue over his teeth after he says it, and Billy is hit with a sense of defensiveness because that’s usually _his move_.

Jesus fucking Christ, what is going on. 

Billy ignores the question, is actively pretending like Steve didn’t just say that. “Don’t say I didn't warn you.” 

He coaches Steve through standing up on the board, and when Steve plants his feet and stands up, he looks down at Billy. 

“You were saying something about this being hard?” Steve taunts, mocking tone clear in his voice.

And like some karmic revenge, a wave rolls in right as he gives Billy a shitty grin. It upsets the board just enough that Steve is thrown off balance, arms windmilling wildly before he splashes into the water. 

Steve resurfaces, his wet hair slicked back, and he’s laughing as soon as he catches his breath. Billy laughs with him but it’s cut short when Steve shakes his hair out, the long strands going wild around his head, and water drips from the ends down Steve’s cheeks, along his neck. 

Blly is fucking mesmerized by the way Steve is glistening in the bright afternoon sun, light reflecting off the waves around him as they tread water. They’re so close Billy can see the little pink spots on Steve’s cheeks where he’s starting to get a sunburn. 

He’s struck with the realization that he could just kiss Steve. That would be the quickest way to let him know how he feels. Just fucking reach out, pull him across the space between them, and get his mouth on him. 

Billy’s seriously tempted to do it when Steve splashes him a little. “You’re not too bad of a teacher.” 

“Oh, my heart melts knowing I’ve met King Steve’s standards,” Billy jokes. 

“Ah,” Steve says, and his face falls a little. “Speaking of that, thanks for the crown. You’re finding increasingly creative ways to mock me.” 

And that’s not what Billy had meant at all but correcting him seems like admitting something. 

“Max dragged me to one of those comic cons and there was a booth selling crowns and shit.” Billy shrugs. “They were doing buy one get one half off, and Max wanted one, so it worked out. Couldn’t resist.” 

Technically, that was a lie. He initially wanted the crown for Steve and Max had gotten one to get the BOGO, but he figured Steve didn’t need to know the fucking details.

Billy swims over to where his board is floating and nods over at the shore. “Wanna try again?” 

Steve gives him that grin again, like he’s about to fuck Billy up with another line, and Billy has to keep himself from groaning out loud when Steve says, “Always up for a second round.”


	6. Quality Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This love language is all about giving your undivided attention to that one special person.They feel the most adored when their partner actively wants to spend time with them and is always down to hang out.“

Steve is sitting on Tommy’s porch, regretting his life choices. Dustin had asked him to be the designated driver so that he could get drunk with Lucas at Tommy’s party, and because Steve is a good friend, he had agreed. But he’s got a backlog of _Chopped_ to catch up on, and he’s really wishing he’d stayed home and watched that instead. 

Not that he minds being the DD, it’s just that he’s not really in the mood for this kind of party anymore. He scrolls through Insta for like the 100th time that night and comes across a post from Billy. 

It’s a picture of Max and Jane at The Bean. The caption says _third wheeling your sister and her girlfriend at tourist traps is cool, right?_

There’s a string of comments underneath from their friends, and Steve adds his own: _better than being the dd. Wish I was there_. 

He gets a text from Billy a couple minutes later. 

> **;) Billy:** Dude, the bean is so overrated you do not wish you were here
> 
> _I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been there. Heard it’s cool though._
> 
> **;) Billy:** what
> 
> **;) Billy:** we gotta fix that
> 
> _Thought it was an overrated tourist trap?_
> 
> **;) Billy:** I mean, it is 
> 
> **;) Billy:** but it’s iconic 
> 
> **;) Billy:** come here now, we’re just chillin 
> 
> _Can’t. I’m the DD for Dustin and Lucas_
> 
> **;) Billy:** Uber exists for a reason 

Steve’s not sure what to say to that, and he’s saved from having to respond right away when he gets a text from Robin. 

> **Bird Girl:** WiSh I wAs ThErE?! Steve, buddy, you got it bad and you’re not even trying to hide it 
> 
> **Bird Girl:** he did like your comment tho so there’s that 
> 
> _He texted me_
> 
> _Told me I should meet up w them at the Bean_
> 
> **Bird Girl:** OMG like a DOUBLE DATE?
> 
> _No, just bc I’ve never been to the Bean before_
> 
> **Bird Girl:** pls tell me you’re en route to millennium park 
> 
> _Nah, I’m DD for Dustin and Lucas_
> 
> **Bird Girl:** omg who cares! Ditch them! 
> 
> _I’d be a bad friend if I ditched them._
> 
> **Bird Girl:** I have to do everything myself 
> 
> _What does that mean?_

> **Jane:** the bean is super cool you should see it in person 
> 
> _I can’t. DD._
> 
> **Jane:** Weak excuse. Will could pick them up 

> **Mad Max:** if you came and distracted billy I might actually get to kiss Jane
> 
> **Mad Max:** you’d be doing me a favor
> 
> _You’re twenty something years old you can kiss someone in front of your brother_
> 
> **Mad Max:** what if I don’t want to 
> 
> _Figure it out_

> **The Only Decent Kid:** What’s Tommy’s address? 
> 
> **The Only Decent Kid:** Mike and I are at the movies but we can pick up the guys after
> 
> _Omg are you on a date?_

> **MFWheeler:** dude if you tell Will Tommy’s address I will strangle you when we get there

> **The Only Decent Kid:** might be 
> 
> _Your drunk friends are not ruining your date night_
> 
> **The Only Decent Kid:** so they can ruin your date night but not mine?
> 
> _no. nO. NO._

> **The Cooler Wheeler:** So we’re openly pining after Billy in public now, huh? 
> 
> **The Cooler Wheeler:** you need a ride to the bean? 
> 
> _Omg is this a coordinated attack? Who’s the ringleader here_
> 
> _Ugh it’s Robin isn’t it_
> 
> **The Cooler Wheeler:** Ding ding ding 

> **Hhhhh:** You’re in trouble when I find you, dude
> 
> _Porch  
>  _

“Dude,” Tommy says, as he sits down next to Steve a minute later. “Why are you here when you could be at the Bean?” 

Steve sighs deeply. “I didn’t think you had Instagram.”

“I don’t. But Robin ratted you out.” He takes a drink of his beer. “You should totally go meet up with them. Sinclair and Henderson can just stay over if nobody wants to come pick them up.” 

Steve considers it for a minute. “I mean, I want to, but things are weird between us. He’s being _nice_ all the time.” 

“Is that...a problem? That seems really good actually,” Tommy says. 

“No, it’s not a problem, it’s just...I don’t know. I miss having him hit on me?” Steve figured that was kind of a weird thing to admit out loud, but Tommy was fully aware of Steve’s Billy situation. “I kept setting him up for bad lines last weekend when we went paddle boarding, and he just, like, ignored it.” 

“So you flipped the tables on him, huh?” Tommy looks impressed. 

“I did, but it didn’t work. He just keeps being nice,” Steve grumbles, aware of the fact that it’s weird to be upset about someone being nice. 

Tommy frowns, looks like he’s trying to concentrate but he’s about 3 beers too drunk to be successful at it. “Maybe he just ---” 

Dustin bursts out onto the porch, wobbly from drinking too much. “Steeeeeeve. Go to the beeeeeeean.” 

Steve buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god, I have so many regrets right now.” 

Dustin kneels down behind him and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck in a weird over-the-shoulder hug. “Your biggest regret will be not going, though.” His words are slurred, and that’s definitely not making Steve feel any better about leaving him here. 

“Kid’s got a point,” Tommy says, arching his brows at Steve. 

“Not a kid,” Dustin protests. “Think I”m gonna burp,” he adds, and Steve tries to shrug him off, but can’t do it quick enough, and the next thing he knows, Dustin is puking into his lap. “Not a burp,” he groans, from where he’s still got his arms wrapped around Steve’s neck. 

“No shit,” Steve hisses. 

Steve’s phone goes off, and rather than look at one more badgering text from one of his friends, he just turns the thing off. 

Tommy’s laughing, trying to hide it behind his hand and failing. “Oh my god.” 

“Nooooooo,” Dustin groans. “Don’t be covered in puke, you’re supposed to go to the beeeeean.” 

Lucas walks out onto the porch and quickly takes in the scene. To his credit, he doesn’t laugh at Steve. “Guess this means we’re not going to Millennium Park, huh?” 

Tommy lends Steve some clean clothes and wraps the vomit-soaked outfit up in a bag for him. “I would offer to wash this for you, but our friendship has limits.” 

“That’s fair,” Steve mutters, throwing the bag into his backseat where Dustin is laying down. 

Steve spends the rest of his Saturday night wrangling a drunk and wiley Dustin and making sure Lucas doesn’t sneak off. The kid is eerily quiet when he’s wasted. 

He finally falls into bed around 1 am, exhausted to his core. Reaching for his phone to set an alarm, he realizes it’s been off since before they left Tommy’s. He scrolls through his texts, ignoring a bunch from the kids, and picking out the important ones to respond to. 

> **Hhhhh:** Make it back okay?
> 
> _Safe and sound_

> **Bird Girl:** ignoring me won’t make me go away
> 
> **Bird Girl:** for real though you okay?
> 
> _Got puked on. Turned my phone off. All good._

His breath catches in his throat when he gets to Billy's thread, a string of texts that are each like 45 minutes apart, like Billy had clearly been waiting for Steve to respond. 

> **;) Billy:** so r u coming thru 
> 
> **;) Billy:** we’re heading out but we could go back some other time 
> 
> **;) Billy:** like, you and me, w/o the brats 
> 
> **;) Billy:** or not 
> 
> **;) Billy:** nvm i guess

Steve squints, re-reads the messages. 

Was Billy...suggesting they go to the Bean. Alone. Together? 

That would be…weird. Not normal Billy behavior. But. Like. It could be fun? It could be like…..a date. But not a date. Like, just friends hanging out at a tourist trap. Friend date. Fun. Normal.

He runs a hand over his face, not sure what the hell he’s supposed to be thinking. Maybe his best option is just not thinking at all. 

Considering it’s way too late to make a difference, and Steve’s brain isn’t exactly firing on all cylinders, he just exits out of the messages and sets an alarm. He can deal with it tomorrow. 

* * *

Billy sips his coffee and frowns. Across from him, Robin is scrolling on her phone. If anyone walked by and happened to peek into Conference Room 3, it would be pretty clear neither of them are working. 

“I think the plan was a failure,” Billy announces. 

Robin looks up from her phone. “Did you get through all 5 languages?” 

“Yeah, and none of them worked.” Billy sighs and leans back in his chair.

“Wait, I know saying nice things, doing nice things, and touch were all kind of not what you expected. What about gifts and hanging out?” 

Billy tips his head back and closes his eyes. “I gave him a crown because of the whole mojito king thing, and he thought I was making fun of him. And then I got him chips and realized that’s just something friends do.”

“Okay, yeah, not great. What about meeting up at the Bean?” 

The fucking Bean. “Well he didn’t show up when we were there last weekend. I said the two of us could go some time and he just...ignored my texts.” 

“I mean, to his credit, he was dealing with drunk friends,” Robin says. “Just because it took him a minute doesn’t mean he ignored it.” 

“No,” Billy says, slumping forward and looking at her. “I mean, he still hasn’t responded. It’s been days. So the attempt at 'quality time' was a strikeout.” 

“Ah,” Robin says with a little frown. "Well, when you think about it, you guys spend time together all the time. Like, you two always end up hanging out when the group gets together." 

"You're right," Billy concedes. "We've been hanging out all along and he has never once indicated he'd like to hang out with just me, like, alone so….still a fucking failure. Thanks for that addition." 

Robin cringes. "Maybe we go back to google.” 

“Maybe we call it a lost cause?” Billy shrugs. “I’m good being friends with him if that’s all he’s interested in.” 

Robin rolls her eyes. “I’d just like to put another bid in for Using Your Words.” 

“Doesn’t really seem worth it at this point. Think it’s pretty clear he’s not interested.” Billy is once again _not_ moping about Steve Harrington in Conference Room Three. 

The only indication that he’d gotten that Steve was even remotely interested in him had been the day they’d gone paddle boarding, when Steve acted like he was trying to get Billy to hit on him. Billy had chalked that up to Steve just being a general shit starter though, and it didn’t really outweigh the fact that he had passed on meeting up and was now actively ignoring Billy’s texts. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Billy gets a text from Steve. His heart rate jumps up with excitement for exactly one second before he realizes it’s in the STS group chat 

> **Bambi:** On Wednesdays we wear pink. 
> 
> **Bambi** : And also get lunch together. 
> 
> **Bambi** : See you guys at noon?
> 
> **Wheeler** : I won’t be there - meeting up w Barb 
> 
> **Maxine** : you know I never miss pizza day 
> 
> **YaDusty** : i will be there and I will be complaining about Karen in accounting 
> 
> **312-674-0356** : thanx for not using your work skype account to plan social events 
> 
> **312-674-0356** : @ will are you gonna be there
> 
> **Byers** : duh, its tradition 
> 
> **312-674-0356:** okay i’ll be there too 
> 
> **Jane** : you two got sickeningly cute real fast 
> 
> **Robin** : Billy and I will be there! 

“Hang on, I never said I was going,” Billy complains to Robin. 

“Well, now I’ve volunteered you, so there’s no going back,” Robin says. She packs her stuff up. “We’re not done with this Steve conversation but I have an actual meeting to go to. See you at lunch.” 

Billy spends a good part of the rest of his morning debating skipping out on lunch. It’s not so much that he cares what everyone else would say, it’s that he knows he’d never hear the end of it from Robin. 

So at noon, he goes down to the cafeteria. Everyone smushes in around one table and Henderson keeps his word about complaining about Karen in accounting. 

Billy doesn’t disagree with Dustin, but he’s heard the rant enough times that he feels like he can skip out on it today. “Getting some air,” he says to Robin, then heads out to the patio. 

He’d given up smoking cigarettes a while ago, but sometimes he still got the urge to light up in the middle of the day. Especially when he spent thirty minutes sneaking glances at Harrington, knowing full well that his text about meeting up was still sitting unanswered. 

For the second time today, Harrington pops up as Billy was thinking about him. Steve sits down next to him on the bench, stretching out in the sunshine. 

“Thought I might find you smoking out here,” Steve comments. 

“I was tempted,” Billy says, runs a hand through his hair. “Haven’t really been having the best morning.” 

Steve nods. “Well, at least we’re officially halfway through the week. Hump day.” 

“Right.” Billy doesn’t _want_ to be a grouch but he also doesn’t have the energy to be sassy and flirty and shit. 

“Look,” Steve starts, pushes his hands down his legs like he’s nervous. “I know it’s been literally days, and I’m sorry I didn’t respond.” 

Billy glances at him, fucking shocked he’s bringing it up in person. “It’s fine.” 

“Dustin literally puked on me, and I turned my phone off because _everyone_ was giving me shit and then it was, like, 2 am,” Steve explains. 

“Really, it’s okay,” Billy interjects, really not wanting to do this. 

“Hang on, let me finish.” Steve looks at him, is probably waiting for Billy to make a joke about finishing, but Billy just looks back. Steve huffs before going on. “I just, like, fell asleep before I responded and then I forgot about it until today when I sent the group text. Kept feeling like I was forgetting something and now I know what it was. So, sorry.” 

Billy nods. “It’s really not a big deal.” 

“Okay, cool. You know what is apparently a big deal though? The Bean. Like, I can’t call myself a proper Chicagoan until I’ve seen it, according to just about everyone I’ve talked to.” He knocks his shoulder into Billy’s. “So, like, is the offer still on the table?”

It takes Billy a second to remember what the offer even was, and then he just has to check they’re talking about the same thing. “You wanna go to the Bean with me. And nobody else,” Billy clarifies. 

“I mean, yeah?” Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “We hang out all the time, I don’t know why you sound so confused. And like, you offered?” 

_Hang out_. Like friends. Billy sighs inwardly at how fucking stupid he’s been this whole time. He reminds himself friendship is 100% better than nothing. “I did offer, and yeah it’s still on the table. Hope you’re ready for a bunch of useless facts about the stupid thing.” 

Steve laughs. “Love a good useless fact. You’ll be a great tour guide; I’m sure you’ll show me the best parts of it.”

“The best parts of the giant fucking shiny bean in the middle of a park?” Billy laughs. “It’s kind of just, like, there. No best parts. It just...exists.” 

“Can’t wait. When and where should I meet you?” 


	7. PLUS ONE: Use Your Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the promised land, the plus one.

Steve looks up, his reflection and everything around him distorted and twisted by the curving stainless steel of The Bean. He had been skeptical about the sculpture because everyone hyped it up so much, but standing under it really was an experience in itself.

“Kinda trippy,” he says, looking over at Billy. 

Billy’s still looking up at their reflection, the long line of his neck stretching on forever before disappearing into the v of his shirt. “Supposed to be trippy,” he comments, before finally looking at Steve. “The artist wanted to create this kind of weird, fluid space where viewers are like, not sure what’s real and what’s abstract.” 

“So like an acid trip but make it art?” Steve asks. 

Billy laughs. “I mean, I think his intentions were more pretentious than that, but yeah I think that’s basically it.” 

Steve walks around, careful not to run into other people or the sculpture itself, which is harder than it should be. “This thing is so smooth,” he comments, running his hand over the surface. He hopes it looks like he’s just admiring the art, but really, he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t run into the stupid thing again. 

“Kapoor’s got a thing about hiding the seams of his work. Like, to make it look like it’s an actual thing that just exists instead of something that was made,” Billy explains, trailing behind Steve. 

Steve steps out from under the sculpture, happy to look at it from a distance instead. “I thought you were gonna tell me useless facts? These are all legit. Like, do you just know this stuff?” 

“Okay, so, I tried googling useless facts about it and all I found was, like, actual shit about it.” Billy huffs, shoves his hands in his pockets.”I know more about this stupid thing than I ever wanted to.” 

Okay, so Billy googled facts about The Bean before they came here, because he knew Steve didn’t know anything about it. Which is, like, weirdly nice. Too nice. Steve feels the need to not think about that fact. Because Billy has been too nice lately, and it’s weird. 

“Here’s a useless fact about it: it's filled with beans. Lima beans,” Steve says, because he needs to stop thinking actual thoughts. 

Billy looks at him, grinning. “Oh, we’re making up facts now?” 

“The Bean was not simply built. It was brought into existence in 1985 by a group of self-proclaimed witches.” Steve nods at the sculpture. “Legend has it if you look directly into your reflection on the North side and say your full name, you get sucked inside.” 

“You get sucked inside,” Billy repeats, trying not to laugh. “With the lima beans.” 

Steve nods. “The Bean is polished every third night by a team of 42 well-trained squirrels.” 

Billy is full-on laughing now. “Don’t know why you needed me as a tour guide, seems like you already know the important stuff.” 

“You got me, I really just invited you here to be my photographer.” He hands his phone over to Billy. “Pics or it didn’t happen, right?” 

Steve stands in front of the Bean, arms stretched out at his sides, and Billy takes a picture of him. “Do the same thing, but turn around. It’s what the cool kids do,” Billy tells him. “Well, according to Max it’s what the cool kids do.” 

He’s not sure how accurate that is, but he trusts Max, so Steve turns around anyway, posing again for a few seconds, then turns and looks over his shoulder, hands on his hips. “Is this also a pose the cool kids are doing?” He pops one hip out to the side. 

Billy laughs, but is clearly still taking photos. “Oh, for sure.” 

Steve blows a kiss over his shoulder, holding it for a picture, then turns around and crouches down, striking a pensive pose, looking off in the distance. “You think I could be a model?”

“Wow, you’re a natural,” Billy says dryly as he takes pictures. “What else ya got?” 

Steve sits down, puts one hand behind him, tangles the other in his hair, and kind of arches his back, pulls one knee up in an imitation of a move he’s seen in plenty of Insta influencer posts. He looks at Billy with a pout. “Do I look good like this?” 

He’s 100% joking, for sure, and he’s hoping Billy will shoot back some kind of line, because even though it’s not low hanging fruit for innuendo like the paddle board stuff was, it’s still prime content for their old type of banter. Like, all Billy would have to say is _sure but you’d look even better in my bed_ and it would be just like old times. 

Billy lowers the phone and just kinda stares at Steve. “Sure.” Then he grins and holds the phone out to Steve. “About as good as anyone can look with a giant reflective bean behind them.” 

Steve stands up and snatches his phone back. “Dude, what the hell.” Billy’s face scrunches up in confusion, which is probably fair. “Are you, like, mad at me?” 

“What? Why would you say that?” 

“Because you haven’t been doing your---” Steve waves his hand around in front of Billy, like that encompasses his whole cocky-flirty-in-your-face vibe “-- ya know, your thing!” 

Billy crosses his arms over his chest. “Weirdly enough, I don’t know. What thing?” 

“The thing where you make fun of me for having a giant fuckng crush on you!” Steve half-yells. Billy’s face goes wide with surprise, like he wasn’t expecting to get called out on it. “You’ve been so nice lately, like, _too_ nice. You used to make fun of me all the time, like, that was our thing. That’s how you showed your friendship. You made fun of me. And now you’re just...nice.”

Billy uncrosses his arms, opens his mouth to say something, but Steve just cuts him off. “You’re only nice to people like Russian Conspiracy Theory Jeff! People you don’t care about. You’re not even nice to Mike Wheeler.” 

Steve watches Billy’s mouth snap shut, and he crosses his arms again. He can keep his mouth shut, because Steve isn’t done yet. 

“You used to say shit like ‘ _I’d let you climb on top pretty boy’_ , or ‘ _sure but you’d look better in my bed’_ , or ‘ _I can make it hard for you Harington’._ You’d joke about wanting to kiss me.” Steve refuses to acknowledge that his voice cracked a bit there, clears his throat. “I know you’re not actually into me, but you used to joke about it.” 

“I’ve been practically handing you lines for weeks now but you’re not taking the bait. And now it’s like, I don’t know, like I’ve been demoted or something. Like I’m not even on a friendship level where we have an in-joke anymore. So, what’s up?” Steve tries to calm himself down, take the accusatory tone out of his voice. “Are you mad at me or something?” 

* * *

Billy simultaneously wants to laugh and cry. Like, how fucking messed up were they that they were both, apparently, into each other and they ended up in a spot where they both thought the exact opposite was true. 

“I should have listened to Robin,” Billy mumbles, feeling a little bit delirious. 

Steve blinks a few times, looks confused. “That explains nothing.” 

“Robin told me to use my words and I didn’t think it would work.” Billy laughs now, and Steve cocks his head to the side, gets that pissy look on his face, and Billy knows he needs to actually explain what’s going on. “Hmm where should I start.” 

“Literally anywhere that gets me answers,” Steve says. 

“Okay, how about this for starters: I was never _joking_ about wanting to kiss you. I was actually hitting on you, literally every single time,” Billy says. 

Steve’s face goes slack. “Sorry, what?” 

“I was actually hitting on you, but you just fuckin ignored it. You never reacted, so I didn’t think it was working. So I asked Robin what I should do and she said use your words.” Billy rolls his eyes. “And like a goddamn idiot I didn’t listen to her and instead we cooked up this idea where I’d stop hitting on you and instead try different stuff. Like, there’s these five love languages or whatever” 

“Oh, hang on, I know about those! Wait, wait.” Realization washes over Steve’s face. “Oh my gosh, hang on, the email congratulating me about San Diego. Is that where this all started?” Billy nods. “You were trying for words of affirmation and the best you could do was ‘way to go’, for real?”

Billy’s willing to admit it wasn’t his best effort. “Point taken. I’d really rather not rehash all the ways in which I spectacularly failed at trying to tell you how I felt without using my words though.” 

Steve laughs at that. “Oh, we’re definitely rehashing it all some other time. But, like, just to recap, you’ve been doing nice things for me and _not_ hitting on me because you like me and you couldn’t figure out how to tell me.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Billy says, kind of embarrassed by the way Steve’s saying it. 

Steve smiles and takes a step closer to him. “Can I make a formal request?” 

“Depends what it is,” Billy hedges. 

“Can I get both? Like, I’m not complaining about you writing me nice emails and buying me stuff and doing stuff for me. But, I really, really miss the bad lines.” 

Billy scoffs. “I mean, you know I want you now. Do you really need the innuendo?” 

“I need the innuendo so bad,” Steve purrs, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around Billy’s neck. “You think you can give me some bad lines?”

“That’s not all I wanna give you, pretty boy,” Billy says. 

Steve grins, bright and happy and so fucking cute, and Billy pulls him in, wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, and finally, fucking _finally_ , kisses him. 

It’s softer than Billy imagined their first kiss would be, and they’re both smiling into it so much that it’s hardly even a kiss, more like a brush of lips, but it’s so fucking good, because it’s Steve. Finally, it’s Steve. 

Billy pulls back, fully aware that they’re still in public at a fucking tourist trap, and this is not the best place to start a full-on make out session. “Look, in the spirit of actually using my words, I just wanna make it painfully clear that I’m into you. Like, yeah, I daydream about your mouth and your hands and your cute little ass, but I mean, as a person, I fucking care about you.” 

“I care about you too, but if you don’t make good on all those promises you made, I’m gonna lose my mind,” Steve says before leaning in again and catching Billy’s mouth in a searing kiss. 

The next morning, Billy sends a picture of him and Steve kissing in front of The Bean to the group chat. He considers saying something like ‘finally used our words’, but in the end figures the picture is enough of an explanation. 

> **Robin** : fucking finally
> 
> **Maxine** : did not need this photo in my life 
> 
> **Maxine** : happy for you guys though
> 
> **YaDusty** : Another one bites the dust. Singles club is shrinking daily RIP but congrats 
> 
> **Jane** : you guys are so cute : ) 
> 
> **Byers** : omg!!! yes!!! 
> 
> **312-674-0356:** seconded on not needing the photo
> 
> **312-674-0356:** gonna pre-emptively ask that you guys not do anything stupid at work now that you’re actively hooking up.
> 
> **312-674-0356:** I am not prepared to deal with that disciplinary action 
> 
> **Wheeler:** You’re just giving them ideas Mike 
> 
> **Sinclair:** @ Dustin they were basically in love before anyway let’s be real they were never in the singles club
> 
> **Sinclair** : And are we pretending nobody in this group chat has hooked up in the utility closet on the 5th floor at STS? 
> 
> **Byers** : can we focus back on billy and steve and their adorable love story 
> 
> **Robin: “** hang on, nobody said anything about love”
> 
> **Robin** : direct quote from billy hargrove 

“Hmm,” Steve says from beside him, scrolling through his phone. “Nobody said anything about love, huh? Seem to remember something very different last night. So what’s the truth?” 

Billy feels his cheeks turning pink at the memory. Babbling ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’ over and over again as Steve had kissed him, pushed into him, held him close as they moved together. Smiling when Steve had said ‘love you too, love you so much’. 

Billy rolls over, pulls the phone out of Steve’s hand and puts it on the side table. “What do you think?” He noses at Steve’s neck, presses kisses on his collar bone. 

“I think it should be easier for me to tell,” Steve’s breath hitches as Billy bites at his shoulder. “You never make things easy.” 

“I’m always easy for you,” Billy says, climbing on top of Steve. “Besides, I seem to remember you saying something about things being more interesting when they’re _hard_.” He rolls his hips against Steve’s, as if it wasn’t clear exactly what he meant by that. 

“You’ve got the worst lines,” Steve groans, but he runs his hands in Billy’s hair, pulls his fingers tight at the nape of his neck. 

“You love them though,” Billy points out. 

Steve smiles and pulls Billy closer. “I love you.” He tugs at Billy’s hair, bringing their lips together in a kiss that leaves Billy a little light headed. 

“I don’t know how much clearer I can be,” Billy says. “But in case you couldn’t tell, I love you, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on tumblr, yelling into the void about my latest hyper fixations, at [herobuckybarnes](http://herobuckybarnes.tumblr.com).
> 
> If you liked this story, you might want to check out [**Am I Dreaming or is that a Prompt-Based Harringrove Series?**](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771882), where I write fluff with the lovely and vastly talented sprinkle_of_cinnamon.


End file.
